


Licorice and Mint - Book 1 - Part 3 - Get Down and Stay Awake

by elle_and_em



Series: Licorice and Mint [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Coming of Age, Dungeon, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons References, LGBTQ Female Character, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Slow Burn, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_and_em/pseuds/elle_and_em
Summary: After that fateful night, Vola's life has returned to normal.  Which means that she may not live to see tomorrow.  A new mission hunting ancient horrors will test her in ways she never expected, and force her to embrace her true strength.CW/TW: Incest, Drug Use, Graphic Violence, GoreNote:This work contains lyrics from The Used, Pigface, and Leather Strip.  All rights belong to the creators and recording artists.
Series: Licorice and Mint [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962421
Kudos: 1





	1. Get Down and Stay Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vola's family of hunters prepares for their next mission, however the greatest threat to their lives isn't the monsters below the city, but one of their own.

_”Kill, smile, cut it out for me this time_ _  
_

_Smile, haven't seen him smile in awhile._

_We cut it out_

_Get down and stay awake_

_Smile.”_

_The Used - Sound Effects and Overdramatics_

======================================================================

Vola stared with intense focus at the green eldritch lightning. It arced between the twin enchanting circles carved into the oil-drum-turned-arcane-forge, throwing the drafty brick room into shadow. It still shocked her how resilient the station was considering it was made of parts from the hardware store using scrounged cash from hack jobs. Her painstaking search for the right type of paint, drum, heat source and safety gear had paid off, giving her the only place she found solace at the farm anymore. The whole crew knew how dangerous the magics were in some of the weapons they found, and Vola was the only one smart enough - or dumb enough - to try and run experiments on their stash. It earned her sidelong looks and whispers, but also uninterrupted time when she was working out here.

Currently her focus was the cracked cestus they had found on one of their hunts. Ahroun hadn’t seen the value in keeping the “rusted hunk of junk” around, but Vola knew enough now from her tattoos and her books to recognize power when she saw it. She had been content to keep it hidden for a rainy day project when Ahroun was away, but after this morning at breakfast….

She inhaled sharply through her mask, biting back anger, and tried to keep her concentration in the magics she was moving from the old armor into its new home. A simple pair of brass knuckles sat in the other enchanting circle, the pawn shop’s yellow sticker still on it. Not her first choice, but her fight with her stun gun Invicta had taught her the hard way to match metal to metal. She wouldn’t make the same mistake this time with another plastic weapon.

From behind the thick dark lenses Vola narrowed her eyes as the green energy crested white-hot. Her hands stayed planted on the control sigils, despite the heat searing her face. The energy, liquid and hypnotic, seemed to beckon to her from far away. Her ears caught a faint snatch of two voices arguing. The bite of sand and spices echoed on her tongue. A shadow of its former owner, perhaps? But that was impossible. It was just the transference of energy from one receptacle to another. She’d seen a lot of shit in this line of work, but ghosts weren’t one of them.

Before her mind could ponder it further, the light flicked out, as abruptly as if someone had flipped a switch. The acrid stink of burning metal and ozone rose from the table. She looked over to the right containment circle and sighed in relief at the wisps of green smoke emanating from the brass knuckles. Into the bucket of sand it went, sending steam clouds into the air. Patiently she waited for the energy to set. When the smoke finally began to dissipate, she withdrew the metal. Biting the leather glove, she pulled it off and touched a hesitant fingertip to the weapon. Cold to the touch. Interesting.

The grip was solid but comfortable, no longer pinching her thick fingers like before. All of the dings and tarnish had been worn off as well. She pulled her mask down and goggles up so she could properly admire her creation. In spite of herself, a satisfied smirk crept across her mouth. “Hell yeah.”

A clap on her left shoulder startled her from her thoughts. Instinctively she spun on her heel and brought her fist around with the gleaming metal rings glinting in the cold grey morning light. Before she could register her target, a blur of motion zipped underneath her swing and a hard impact landed in her gut, folding her in half. A sharp blow to her back hit her like a mack truck. The sudden connection with the concrete floor blasted the air from her lungs and stars spun across her vision. The rage that threatened to flare was quickly stamped out by the rational corner of her brain. Only one person had the strength and speed to take her down this fast.

Cautiously she opened one eye. A massive pair of thick tan work boots greeted her. She coughed. “B-boss. Mor-morning. You snuck up on me.”

A sharp pull on the back of her thick hoodie pulled her to her feet. Ahroun stepped back giving the half-orc a stern look. “Sloppy. You’re lucky all I did was lay you out.”

Vola winced at the admonishment. Twin feelings of shame and resentment boiled back up, destroying the calm she had been so carefully building. “Sorry. I was just…”

“Fucking around in the armory? Wasting supplies? What the hell were you making in here that was so important you weren’t on your guard?”

Resisting the Red Dragonborn hunter only resulted in more headaches - physical and mental - so Vola held up the brass knuckles and slid them off her fingers. “Just these.”

Ahroun took the simple weapon from her hand and turned it around in his massive black claws. A huff of black smoke shot out over the gleaming metal from his nostrils. “You fancied up a bar brawl weapon?”

“No I...was trying to...” Vola caught herself. He was already in a bad mood. If he found she had been hoarding items that he’d told her to toss out, her day would get much worse. She rubbed her stomach and leaned against the forge, blocking his view of the cestus. “I was trying to test out a renewal enchantment. Find a way to patch up some of our gear without having to toss so much of it out after it gets busted.”

Ahroun arched a scaly eyebrow. “And what did you renew it with?” he asked skeptically, catching her movements.

Vola forced all expression from her face and turned to the table again. If she was going to have to take some licks over this, she wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of seeing her hurt. “Just...” She stifled a relieved sigh as she caught the smoldering pile of ash in the enchantment circle. Sliding over she presented the pile to her boss. “Some old scrap metal we had sitting out there getting rusted and wet. I figured, why not try to put it to better use?”

Ahroun turned the weapon around in his hand again, this time with a less critical look. “Huh. I’d say it worked.” He tossed it back to her. “Ask next time before you go digging in the trash. I don’t appreciate not being told when you’re playing mad scientist out here.”

Vola wanted to give the knuckles another test against the side of his head, but pushed the feeling down. “Sorry, boss. Will do.”

Ahroun _hmphed_ and turned away from her. “You can clean that shit up later. Meeting in the house. Now. New hunt.”

Vola breathed a quiet sigh of relief and followed him out of the decrepit icehouse. She shot a guilty look towards the pile of ash still smoldering on the forge. Another piece of ancient history, destroyed for her curiosity. 

That faint aroma of spices and sand hit her tongue again, just for a moment. It must have been more dusty in there than she thought. She resolved to attack the area with a broom again when the meeting was over.

=====================================================================

Only Doran was in the kitchen when they entered, seated comfortably in the good chair. The aging human was dressed in red flannel and dungarees, hairy bare feet drumming against the linoleum. He moved for Ahroun and settled on the folding metal chair instead, the legs groaning under his weight. That left Vola no choice but to stand. Uneasily, she glanced through the open kitchen door into the living room. “Where is everyone, Ahroun?”

“Everyone who needs to be here is.”

Vola moved to ask another question but a cutting look from Doran stopped it before it could leave her lips. “Okay....so what’s the target?”

Ahroun waved dismissively. “Nothing we need major war plans for. Just a snake hunt. They don’t need to know more than that. You two, however, need some encouragement.”

“Encouragement to go kill some overgrown reptiles?” Doran’s brogue always came out thicker when he was on the defensive. “We’re about the only ones you got that have seen the bastards before. Hardly think we shirked on the Samhain raid. Vola and I can hunt snakes with our eyes closed.”

Ahroun smirked and folded his arms. “Glad to hear you feel that way. You’re right. Nice and easy. So I’ll get no static from you two when we bring that rat you call a son with us.”

Doran sat straight up in his chair. “You’re not serious!”

“As sin.”

“We can’t take Gaius with us!”

The dragonborn’s grin was all teeth. “I thought this was just a simple snake hunt.”

Vola forced her voice into what she hoped was a rational, slightly bored tone. “I think what Ponytail’s getting at is that we need Gaius up top. He can drive. He can hack alarms. He doesn’t get noticed. Plus if something happens to him, where’s our cash gonna come from?”

A large red fist slammed on the table. “He’s a fucking hunter. He lives under my roof and eats my food. But I don’t see him fucking hunt like a goddamn hunter. In fact, I haven’t seen him kill so much as a fly. He’s a fucking thieving leech living under my roof!”

Vola let the anger from her boss wash past her. This was nothing new. As much as Gaius’ combat inactive status bothered him, Ahroun was smart enough to realize that the main source of their intelligence, funding, and quick getaways were all thanks in part to the goblin teenager. What he didn’t like was the pushback. The sum total of those willing to say no to the dragonborn were sitting in this room, the number having dwindled in recent years. 

Doran’s face was a mask of barely contained rage and anger. Ahroun had wanted him like this. Frustrated enough he would do something dumb. Alarm bells rang in her mind as the man’s hand began to drift under the table.

“Fine!” Ahroun’s chaotic temper swiveled towards her as Doran’s hand froze. “Fine. Gaius comes too. But he comes with me. He’s never been in combat. He’ll need someone to watch out for him. Someone calm and objective.” She gave an almost imperceptible nod to Doran, reassuring her friend.

Ahroun cackled. “You? Calm in the field. The nightmare Vola Falone hopped up on her ‘Combat Enhancement Powder’?”

The half-orc grimaced. “I’ll go without this time. It’s just a snake hunt. No need for ‘performance enhancers’. I’ll keep him safe and make sure he comes out in one piece. He kills, he stays alive, we stay funded and fed.”

Ahroun smiled that sick smile of his again and shoved two of his taloned fingers into his shirt pocket. Withdrawing a small plastic bag of white powder, he tossed it into the middle of the table. Vola felt a not-so-small pull towards the bag of cocaine, but held her ground. 

“Works fine by me. ‘Sides, he needs someone calm and objective with him the first time he doses up with the rest of the family right?”

Cold silence filled the kitchen.

“He’s only 13.” Doran’s voice was barely a whisper, but loud enough to get Ahroun’s attention.

“13 and still a fucking virgin. Shoddy parenting if ya ask me. Maybe he needs some mentoring in that department as well. How ‘bout it, Vee?”

The half-orc allowed a sneer to crack her emotionless mask. “Don’t even joke about that. That’s sick. You want him in battle. Done. You want him ‘enhanced’. Fine. You won. No need to make us lose our breakfast over it.” 

Ahroun threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Line drawn. I’ll tell Cerise to do it.”

“Can we move on please? Where are we hunting and when?” His voice was calm, but his hand shook as he brought out a black leather notebook and pen. The human was always ready with the notebook, working behind the scenes to make sure palms were greased and eyes were looking the other way. Another reason for Ahroun’s disapproval.

The dragonborn continued to lean back in his chair, staring at the ceiling and still basking in the broken wills of his two most seasoned hunters. “Two weeks from now, tunnels under the Riverwalk. I’ll get us the cash, since our current piggy bank might be broken afterwards.” He let the words hang in the air.

Gaius’ father was a statue, the reply chipped from stone. “Two weeks to prep for the river sewers. Got it.”

“Nope. Deeper.”

Vola raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. “Deeper? Only things that live deeper live in the abandoned grids....oh, fuck me.”

“Yep.” Ahroun nodded. “Biggest snakes of all.” Before the two hunters could renew their protests he stood up. “Two weeks. Get him coked up. Get him laid, in case he doesn’t come back. Get him ready to fight. Get us intel. And Vola? Since you came back _miraculously_ intact last time, see if your fucktoy’s connection has Yuan-ti antidote they can get us. I’ll be back with the gear and money. Be ready.”

Ahroun sauntered out of the house and closed the screen door with a victorious slam as he made his way to his truck. Vola and Doran sat quietly at the table and waited for the sound of the gates to open and close. The truck’s motor roared to life, gradually fading down the road. 

After a moment, Vola broke the silence. “Doran. I am sorry. He was out of line and he--”

A fist slammed into the formica. “Motherfucker! That fucking scaly motherfucker!”

“I know.”

“Yuan-ti? Vee. It’s like he keeps upping the fucking ante, trying to kill us off. Not even trying to hide it no more!”

“We’re the last two,” she replied woodenly. “He killed or drove off the old crew. And no one here’ll say no to him.”

“Don’t remind me,” the human sighed. He ran his hands through the ratty handful of silver dreads. “And my boy is going down there with us.”

“I swear I won’t let anything happen to him. Like I said, I’ll go down clean.”

The human man fell silent for a moment, staring out the window. Vola watched as the gears turned behind his weathered gray eyes.

“No you’re not.”

“I’m not?”

“Gaius is going down there clean. I need you raging. He...he went too far this time, Vee. What he wants to do to my boy. What he wants you to do? That sick fuck.” He choked back more of his anger and levelled his piercing eyes on her. “If we do this like he wants, we all die. You. Me. Gaius. The twins. Maybe the whole lot of ‘em. He’d be the only one to walk out. And I know jack all about what we’re up against.”

“I read about Yuan-Ti in my books. Huge tribes of snake-people. When the elves got greedy, they got forced underground.”

“Magic users?”

“Most definitely.”

Doran winced. “What kind?”

“Most of the records were destroyed when their way of life got paved over, but the books talked about prehistoric power.” Under normal circumstances she might have felt sympathy for yet another culture crushed by the Le Quin Empire, but right now the fear of the unknown was winning out by a landslide.

“Pre-what?”

“Prehistoric. Before history. Probably some forgotten demi-god or elemental earth spirit.”

“Wonderful.” The word was acid. “Okay. Alternate plan time.” Doran seemed like a quiet and unassuming human man, but he was the pack’s mouth and face when it came time to more delicate matters of hunts. While she had her arcana and rage, and Ahroun had his cruelty and merciless tactics, Doran’s greatest weapons were his smile and his notebook. Vola feared and respected his wits the same way he respected and feared her mind. He beckoned her close and she settled into the wooden chair. 

Doran opened his notebook to a fresh page. Huddling close to her, he kept his voice to a whisper. “Here’s what we do. That coke goes nowhere near Gaius. Got it?”

She nodded.

“Good. Divide it among you, Victor and Cerise. If you have to, use it as a bribe to keep those two away from my son. I have no idea if Ahroun got to them before he talked to us. Fucking disgusting. He’s still a _child_ \--”

“She won’t do it. Unless it's her brother, she ain’t interested.” 

“Never did think I’d be grateful for twincest, but here we are.” He scribbled on the paper. “We still need them in the loop. I...I never thought he’d go this far but….Vee…” He swallowed another moment of anger and took a deep breath. “You talk to Victor and Cerise, quiet-like. Have them craft a story, make it realistic. Make sure Victor doesn’t method act any jealousy though.”

“No guarantees there. Even talking about it’s gonna set him off.” Vola had seen Victor throw a chair through a window at the mere mention of another man from his sister’s lips. Pretending was not his strength, to put it mildly.

“They gotta sell this, otherwise Ahroun may make her do it with a crossbow aimed at her head. I don’t give a damn what he has to do, personally.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’ll work with Gaius, get him familiar with the weapons, and how to act like he’s dosed and got laid.” Both hunters shared a shiver of revulsion at the idea of the young goblin’s father having to talk his son through that. 

Time for a subject change, Vola decided. “I’ll get in touch with Dahl. See if we can’t get something to protect us down there.”

“No offense, but do you really think some friend of a friend of some low-level street dealer will have anything to counteract whatever scaled horrors are living under the city?”

“Never know.”

“You want to get off before we all die horribly? Fine. But don’t delude me into thinking you’re gonna pull another miracle cure out of your ass like you did with that basilisk.”

The reminder of the near loss of her arm snapped Vola back to reality. The real reason for her bad mood this morning slid to the forefront of her mind. A look of disappointment crossed her face, prompting Doran to touch her elbow sympathetically.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult him. I’m sure Dahl’s a good guy…”

“S’fine,” she waved dismissively. “Not bothered by that. He’s good for dick and drugs. That’s all I need him for. What do you need me to do?”

“Learn.” His eyes were steeled with grim determination. “Stuff every fact you can into that big brain of yours. Hide in the library basement. Magic, fighting styles, biology, blueprints. You name it.”

“Like the way we used to, huh? Before he came around?”

“Precisely. We do this the old way.”

“And what if he comes back before two weeks is up?”

“Potentially deadly hunt. Time being taken to obtain much needed antidotes or bizarre drugs. Favors having to be um...passed off to obtain them...from one friend to another,” Doran said calmly crafting her alibi from thin air for her.

“Gross. Fine. Two weeks. Ping me if he gets back into town early.”

The pair sat quietly at the table digesting the events of their morning. Vola leaned back into her chair and released a sigh of relief. An insane hunt with a sane plan of preparation. This at least felt normal. She tapped on the table with the brass knuckles she had just enchanted. At the tapping, Doran seemed to remember something.

“Vee.”

“Yep.”

“It’s none of my business of course, but...can I ask what had you so down earlier? You stomped through the kitchen, inhaled your food, and then went straight out to the armory. No coffee either.”

“Nothin’. I’m gonna pack and then head out, get as much of a head start as I can.”

“Okay.” If he was offended by her brush-off, he didn’t let on. “Stay in touch. And Vee….thank you.” 

“Anytime.” As Vola moved to leave the kitchen, Doran cleared his throat. Pausing at the door, she glanced over her shoulder. “What?”

“You ever wish...we’d left when we had the chance?”

The smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Where else would we go?” She could feel his stare on her back as she left the kitchen.

As she headed towards the door, faint giggling made its way to her ears. Try as she might to focus on her task at hand, she couldn’t help but cast a sidelong gaze at the living room. Victor and Cerise were on their pallet, their backs to her. Victor’s hand wasn’t visible under the blanket, but the breathy sighs from Cerise were unmistakable. The blue lotus logo was faint, soaked with dried blood on Victor’s back. The loss trickled through her anew, slow and unstoppable. Quietly she stepped back from the door and continued to the end of the hall, trying not to think about the Aasimar healer and failing. 

========================================================================

“Fuck...me...running…” Vola held her head back and pinched her nose, pain thrashing through her sinuses. She opened a watery eye and glanced down at Gaius, whose own eyes were saucers. 

“My turn!” Cerise reached over the back seat of the car and yanked the white bag out of Vola’s hand. In the driver’s seat, Ahroun gave out a gravelly laugh. In the rear view mirror, his eye locked with Vola’s for a split second, and the toothy grin he gave her was triumphant. Behind her, Cerise and Victor were bickering about who would get the next hit. On the other side of Gaius sat Doran, his mouth in a tense thin line. Between his legs lay a loaded shotgun, the barrel pointing up at the flaking roof of the car. His gaze was focused on the window, but the hand that clutched Gaius’ was white at the knuckles. 

“Gimme another,” Vola growled, reaching her hand back. 

“We’re outta paper,” Cerise retorted, “Cause Victor fucking crumpled it.”

“Gimme the bag,” the half-orc snarled. Already the edges of her vision had started to get that telltale red tint. Her heart pounded in her chest. The bag was dropped into her hand and she opened it. Dipping her hand inside, she rubbed a coated finger over her gums, accepting the needling pain as the rush hit her bloodstream. A vein pounded in her temple.

They were on the interstate. Where Ahroun had gotten a car from he wouldn’t say, but the bloodstains on the seat looked new. Vola knew better than to ask. It stank of canned soup and processed meat and the garbage on the floor had sat there for a while from the looks of it. But this was going to be nothing compared to where they were going, and so Vola had held her breath and climbed inside.

Gaius, to his credit, hadn’t complained once about the mission. He was too terrified of Ahroun to say no, and privately Doran and Vola had assured him he’d be in between them the whole time. She’d pretended to ignore his terrified quiet sobs the night before as they all slept. Right now he was frozen between the two of them. His small body was weighed down with a kevlar vest two sizes too big and an extra sheath full of arrows for the crossbow. Vola doubted that in a real situation he’d remember it was even there, much less how to use it. He was a liability, and they all knew it. 

Her vision stuttered for a brief moment, followed by a surge as her heart thudded in her chest. Beads of sweat popped on her bare skin. She wore her black combat boots, a pair of jeans, and a sleeveless gray tank top. Across her knees sat Veristor. Invicta hung on her hip, and her new weapon clinked softly on a lanyard around her neck. 

“Whoo!” Victor shook his head and pumped a fist in the air. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. This is good shit, Vee!”

“You can thank her fuck toy for that,” Doran muttered.

“Speaking of fuck toy,” Cerise crooned. Gaius jumped as a single finger traced its way down one of his ears. “Was it good for you too? Do you feel like a _man_ now?” 

“Cerise.” Vola’s voice was steel. They knew they had to put on an act for the plan, but bringing it up now would just--

“Let him talk,” Ahroun ordered from the front. The car went silent as Gaius stared at the dragonborn with a petrified look. “Well?”

“Uh…” Gaius hadn’t spoken since they’d gotten in the car. He looked at Doran. The human had assured her that he coached the goblin teenager on what to say if the subject came up, but she wasn’t sure if he had coordinated it with the twins since she had been away. Her heart slammed in her chest as the drugs and anticipation took hold. 

“Don’t look at him, look at _me_ ,” Ahroun barked. Yellow eyes smoldered in the rearview mirror. “I’m the one talking to you.”

“Yeah. Yeah I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It was good. Yeah. Yeah. It was good.” He attempted a half-grin.

“Ha, I knew it,” Ahroun chortled. Victor had gone silent in the back seat. Cerise let out a nervous giggle. The pair had played out their part of the plan realistically so far. According to Doran, Victor had stormed out of the house threatening to shoot the big eared freak if he saw him. While he’d made sure to do it in plain sight of Ahroun, it was also hard to tell how much of the blow-up was acting. The twins were volatile and blindly loyal to Ahroun, but they were even more loyal to each other. 

Doran continued to stare out the window, his jaw set and grinding his teeth. Rolling her eyes, Vola dipped another finger into the bag and rubbed more on her gums. It stabbed into her flesh and she closed her eyes as the freight train of endorphins hit her brain. A flicker of heat warmed her spine, rapidly sending a flush of blood to her face. She wasn’t sure what she hated more - the high, or how much she liked it. 

Squat buildings flashed by, covered in neon graffiti and barbed wire. It was dusk, and the shadows hung like cobwebs over the broken blocks. Ahroun followed the road as it wound under a sagging concrete bridge, coming to a stop when the road dead-ended into a parking lot. The cracked asphalt sloped gently towards a grate.

“We’re here,” he stated gruffly. “Everybody out.” 

As Vola swung the door open, the thick heat of summer hit her skin. The concrete had baked in the heat of the day and even still the air shimmered as she studied the horizon. People shuffled by in semi-darkness. Doran flung Vola’s backpack at her and she caught it one-handed. Gaius was struggling into his, and she bent to help him. 

“I can do it--” he snapped, recoiling.

“Cause you’re a man now?” Vola hissed quietly. She roughly cinched the backpack around the stunned teenager’s body, jerking the straps tight. “Stay close to me and your dad. No matter what _he_ says.” 

“Falone,” a gruff voice ordered from behind her. “Quit gossiping. Are you fucking ready or not?”

“Ready boss.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Ahroun and the rest of them had gathered around the grate in the middle of the lot. The sound of rushing water echoed softly from far below. The dragonborn laced his claws around the slick metal of the grate. With a hefty groan, he began to pull the protesting metal upward on its rusted hinges. A squeal echoed but the steel obeyed, revealing a yawning black hole. Drilled into the concrete was a length of rebar twisted into a handhold. The dragonborn smiled at Vola.

“Ladies first.” 

The world stuttered around her again for a moment, throwing off the reply that had been ready to drop. Silently, she sat at the lip of the opening and grasped the handhold. Who knew if these were even still secure? She’d never used this entrance before, and from the looks of it, no one else had in a while either. Hoisting her weight onto the metal, she tested the next one down before letting herself settle on it. 

Gaius didn’t appear over the lip of the hole until she was about six feet down, but soon the goblin’s shuffling breath accompanied hers. The weak light disappeared quickly, leaving Vola to feel for the next handhold in complete darkness. A thick smell of decay had begun to permeate, causing her to gag on the stench. Above her someone gagged as well and she managed to croak up a warning.

“None of you assholes get to puke on me.” A ripple of tense laughter echoed its way back down. Vola concentrated on breathing through her mouth as the smell began to get stronger. The claustrophobia of the tunnel, no wider than a trash can, throbbed against the thrill of the coke singing through her system. The result left her with a vertigo that made her wish once again that she wasn’t forty feet in the air. 

After a lifetime her boots sloshed in the thick water as she dropped from the last hold. “Found bottom,” she called back up. Gaius was next in line and she reached out a hand to haul him to the ground. He stood in the thigh-high water, a shivering silhouette against the deeper black of the tunnel entrance. Doran began swearing as the pool of standing water sucked at his boots. Cerise and Victor were thankfully silent as they descended. Ahroun was last, and as he landed, he clicked on his headlamp. The tunnel instantly flooded with harsh light, almost making Vola wish she was still in the darkness.

The pool of fetid green water was thick with rot. At her feet, a dead rat floated in the muck, its black body the size of her forearm. Gaius jumped at the sight, scrambling backwards towards the shelf of brick that lined the edge of the tunnel. “Fucking shit fuck--”

“There’s worse down here than that,” Ahroun growled. “Get used to it. Fast.” He sloshed through the water after Gaius and stepped onto the dry surface. The tunnel was gray brick, the blocks fitted together perfectly to form a smooth arch. A river of sludge wound through it, the current gently pulling at their feet as if inviting them in. Everything was ringed with a hazy red tint, dipping out of focus briefly before snapping back into place. Vola blinked and shook her head. As the others hauled themselves out of the water, the half-orc clicked on her flashlight as well, pointing the beam upwards. The handholds looked far more rickety in the light, and Vola frowned as she studied them. If one of them got injured, there’d be no way to get back up this way. As it was, the rebar handholds might not survive another trip. Far above them lay a tiny square of weak light, fading more by the second. 

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered to no one. 

“Quit bitching.” The response was predictable, so she didn’t answer. The dragonborn was already on edge. Vola turned to follow up the rear. Already the rest of them were halfway down the tunnel. 

The sewers were ancient, and in any other frame of mind Vola might have paused to appreciate their construction. The elves had made them a thousand years ago, and the architecture showed. Their use of stone, bent in ways she didn’t know stone could bend, created latticework arches above her head. These archways had survived six wars and countless generations living and dying above them, and still they stood with not even a brick out of place. But the more she walked the more her heart hammered against her chest, threatening to punch a hole through her ribcage if she didn’t fuck or fight something. Why had she taken three hits again? One was usually enough. 

Fuck Ahroun and his stupid plan. She’d dug through every library book on the sixth floor and carefully recorded every scrap of info that might be relevant. When she’d reported back to Ahroun, he’d paged casually through her notes for all of fifteen minutes. Nothing she’d said had mattered much after that. She should’ve been stronger. She should’ve stood up to him harder, whatever ass-kicking it might have brought down. She should’ve--

“Dead end,” Victor hissed, his voice echoing strangely. As Vola approached, the reason for the echo became clear. Before them lay a yawning opening, the latticework mangled and broken at the edges. Victor leaned over and dropped a rock into the hole. Together, they listened for the clatter, him counting the seconds under his breath. “One-one thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one thousand….” He got to ten before the echo traveled back. 

“Hundred-fifty, hundred seventy-five feet?” she guessed. 

“Victor,” Ahroun ordered. “Rope.”

The human stared back at the dragonborn, stunned. “Boss…you sure this is the right way to go?”

“You gonna start questioning me now? Been listening to these two?” He jutted his chin towards Vola and Doran.

“Nah…just...I dunno…”

“You dunno what?”

“Just seems like we don’t really know whas’down there. That’s all.” He shuffled his feet and looked down.

“Victor’s right, Ahroun,” Doran chimed in. “We don’t know the Yuan-Ti are down there.”

In reply, Ahroun unfolded a square of paper. It was a copy of the city plans that she’d swiped from the library. Maybe he had been paying attention after all. He tapped a finger to the page. “This is us. A hundred-seventy-five, you say? That’s this level down here.” His black claw sailed to the bottom of the page. “This little shortcut saves us two hours, maybe more.”

“Every shortcut’s got a price,” Vola replied, staring down the hole. “If we run into trouble, we’re stuck on a rope, climbing up one at a time. The other way is safer, even if it takes longer. Longer’s better than dead.”

“I don’t like it, Ahroun,” Cerise said, her voice small. 

The dragonborn huffed. His eyes drifted to Gaius, who shrank under the intensity of his gaze. “What do you think, short stack?”

“Um…”

“Say ‘um’ one more time and I’ll break you in half. I asked you what you thought. You as much a coward as the rest of your friends? Or you wanna get paid?”

“I…” Gaius avoided Doran’s gaze. “I...I wanna get paid.”

“You scared of heights?”

“I...uh, no?”

“Good. It’s settled then.” Ahroun glanced around at the rest of his group. “If the kid’s got more balls than the rest of you, I’ll just take him and you all can take the long way around like a bunch of old ladies.” A clawed hand dragged the goblin up front. “You’re with me, kid.”

Vola and Doran shared a glance as Ahroun tied off a line of rope and flung the length into the darkness. Doran’s eyebrows had creased into a thin line, but he shrugged under Vola’s questioning gaze, as if to say _what do you want me to do?_ As the rope grew taut under Ahroun and Gaius’ weight, the older human elbowed past Vola to check the knots before hauling himself down. After another exchange of looks between her and the twins, she sighed and followed suit.

The edges of the tunnel were smooth as glass, reminding her of cauterized flesh. If the Yuan-Ti had really done this, that meant they had an explosive force that was capable of chewing through hundreds of feet of elven-made brick. And if it wasn’t the Yuan-Ti, then it was something else. Ahroun had said they were the only ones down here with the capability, but what if he was wrong? So much of these tunnels had been rebuilt on top of one another, closed off, or just plain abandoned that any intel they had was bound to be outdated--

A panicked yell floated up from below. “Go back, _go back--_ ”

“What is it?” she called back down. A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, swinging wildly before aiming down. “Oh holy hells…”

The bottom of the pit writhed. Here and there, Vola caught sight of a flash of beady eyes or a burst of cherry red, but then it disappeared under the mass of rippling black fur. Down below her hung the rest of the group, hanging onto the rope like bait on a fishhook. Ahroun was the lowest. The dragonborn’s tail flicked nervously, not ten feet above the pack.

“What’s that they’re chewing on?” Victor shouted.

“A body, I think!” That was Doran. “Looks new.”

“Rabid?”

“Does it matter?!”

“Enough chit-chat!” Ahroun snapped. “Everyone out, double time!”

Gratefully accepting proffered arms from the twins, Vola hauled herself out with a speed she didn’t know she had. One by one, the rest surfaced. Finally Ahroun emerged.Taking a seat on the lip of the hole, he peered down into the darkness, the beam of his headlamp trying unsuccessfully to cut through the shadows. The faint sound of gnashing teeth and squeaking was barely audible over the sound of the water. 

“We were lucky they had something better to eat,” Doran sighed. “I’ve seen little ones strip the flesh from a Kobold in under a minute. I can’t imagine what those big ones are capable of.”

“You think they get bigger the deeper we go?” Victor asked, eyes round.

“Everything gets bigger the deeper you go,” Doran replied dryly.

“Shut up,” Ahroun said wearily. He clicked off his flashlight. “New plan. We go the long way. We stay close and stick to the ledge. I take the lead. We see rats, we get in the water. They can’t eat and swim.”

“Who knows what’s in the water though,” Vola muttered under her breath as she skirted the hole.

“You think there’s something in the water?” Cerise’s voice was tight with anxiety.

“I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“Like what?”

“Probably something hungry.”

As it turned out, Vola didn’t have to wait long to be proven right. Not even a hundred yards later the tunnel began to dip down sharply, disappearing completely in a murky pool. The puddle of water was perhaps ten feet across, too big to jump but not too big to wade through. Ahroun had one combat boot in the water before Doran quietly pointed out, “Water spiders--” and Ahroun withdrew his foot as hastily as he’d put it in.

“What’s a water spider?” That was Gaius, his voice cracking.

“ _Argyoneta aquatica subterannea,_ ” Vola replied. Where in the recesses of her brain had that come from? “But you can’t eat these like you the ones that grow up top.”

“Thanks for the factoid, Volapedia,” Doran retorted. “Doesn’t help us get past ‘em though. What do we do, Ahroun?”

At this, Ahroun frowned, studying the water. Ten seconds turned into twenty, and Vola realized with a ripple of smug satisfaction that the dragonborn didn’t know what to do. Quietly, she un-shouldered her backpack and started to dig through the contents.

“Okay, I can toss each of you across the water,” he started. “Starting with the lightest ones first.”

“No offense boss, but I’m a bit heavier than I look,” Doran replied doubtfully. “And that’s a good fifteen feet across. Besides, how do _you_ get over then?”

“All right, we throw a rope across and tie it off then.”

“Nothin’ to tie it to,” Victor pointed out. Vola’s rummaging had caught Cerise’s attention, and Gaius’. They sidled closer to her, trying to peek inside.

“Maybe we’re being too cautious. There might be nothin’ in there.”

“I’d bet you a year’s wage on it,” Doran answered. 

“Well dammit, I’m not gonna let us give up over a _giant puddle_ \--”

“Found it,” Vola grunted, yanking out a plastic bag of black fur and frozen congealed blood. Her knife opened with a click, shearing off the top. 

“Are those…rats?” Cerise asked, puzzled. 

“What, the sewer doesn’t have enough rats, you gotta bring more?” the dragonborn scoffed. 

Vola shot him a venomous look, but spoke to the group. “Run across the other side as soon as I say go. Water’s probably not more than a couple feet deep. But you gotta be _fast_. These things move quick.” She moved to her feet, re-shouldering her backpack. 

Doran’s half-smile in her direction was grim. “Gaius, on my back,” he ordered. The goblin obeyed, clinging onto his shoulders with a deathgrip. Cerise and Victor looked back and forth between her and Ahroun. The dragonborn’s nostrils smoldered, but the curious glint in his eye was enough to earn her a curt nod. That was enough for the twins, who lined up at the edge of the pool, toes just barely dipping into the sludge.

Vola held the plastic back above the murky water. The absolute stillness was unnerving, knowing what was waiting below. “One, two, three--” and upended the bag. The stiff bricks of meat _plopped_ beneath the surface and the pool roiled to life. Vola caught a glimpse of jellied legs and hairy plump bodies, and swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Go!” 

Doran led the charge, boots thundering through the water as he sprinted across. Mud quickly sloshed into his boots, cascading up to his thighs. Gaius clung tightly to his backpack, eyes squeezed shut. The twins joined hands and waded in, thick sludge immediately sucking at their legs. Victor gave a little squeak as the water around his feet began to ripple. 

“Move it Victor!” Vola barked. She could have saved her breath. With the strength of ten men, Cerise yanked Victor forward, not stopping until they’d both scrambled to safety on the other side. Behind them, Doran hauled Gaius and himself onto the earthen embankment, the human man breathing a sigh of relief as his boots touched dry land. 

That left Vola and Ahroun. With a smoldering _huff_ of breath, the dragonborn took a running start and launched himself into the air. He didn’t quite make it - although he got close - cannonballing into the water with a splash that sent waves clear to the other side of the pool. With some quick action from Doran, their sopping wet leader was hauled up and standing beside them within a few seconds. 

Vola took a deep breath and backed up, the same as Ahroun had. The water at the other end of the pool had decreased from a boil down to a simmer, nothing more than a few stray bubbles popping on the surface. That wasn’t a good sign. Sprinting down the muddy track left by Ahroun, she willed herself into the jump and, as her feet left the water, felt her heart sink. It wasn’t far enough. 

The second her feet splashed into the water, something plucked at her boots. Mud squelched, sucking at the soles of her shoes, but her vision zeroed in on the thick gray legs breaching the surface. All eight of them were tipped with thick black barbs. Someone was screaming and clawing for her hand. Wildly she grabbed it, at the same time kicking at the legs stuck like burrs to her canvas pants. Claws flashed, dragon breath hot on her skin. The dragonborn stood beside her, slashing a jellied wriggling form the size of a dinner plate to ribbons before throwing it back in the water. Cerise and Victor stood at the edge of the dim light, clinging to each other in terror. 

"Th-thanks," Vola whispered. The pool was boiling again, this time the murky waters tinged with crimson. Her canvas pants were torn where the barbs had caught, but her skin was unbroken. Thank the gods.

“Hmph. Everybody good? Spider-free?” Ahroun glanced around. When no one answered, he nodded. “All right then.” Elbowing to the front of the group, he began picking his way down the path. After a shell-shocked pause, she followed.

========================================================================


	2. There's something about this psycho trip.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite their reservations, the team has no choice but to follow Ahroun's lead. The deeper they go the more they have to rely on the violent Dragonborn's intel. The closer they get to their prey, the less certain Vola is that they will all make it out alive. Her brains have saved them so far, now its time for brawn. 
> 
> CW/TW: Gore, Violence, Drug Use, Forced Transformation, Slavery
> 
> Note: This work uses lyrics from The Used, Pigface, and Leather strip. All rights belong to the creators and recording artists.

_”There's something about the way we fit  
_

_T_ _here's something about this psycho trip  
_

_There's something about the way we groove  
_

_Something's got me and I just can't seem to choose"  
_

_Pigface - Bitch_

======================================================

The next hour crawled by. The tunnels were quiet, the smell of rot so thick that it seemed to dampen even the sounds around them. Twice Gaius bent over to throw up into the water. Vola, who had also been fighting the nausea ever since her third bump, forcibly swallowed back the bile that hovered on the back of her tongue. When Gaius stopped, she quietly handed him a bandanna from the backpack, along with a small tube of menthol jelly to mask the smell. “You’ll get to a point where it’ll be too much even for this,” she warned, her voice muffled through her own cloth. 

“What do we do then?”

“Hope you’ve got nothing left to puke up.” 

The goblin groaned in response. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Quit whining,” Ahroun snapped from the front of the line. “We’re burning daylight.” 

After that, Victor fell silent and slunk at the back of the line. Cerise shuffled nervously between her brother and Vola, who had somehow ended up behind Ahroun in the front. Too nervous to go near the dragonborn but too scared to hover in the back, she reminded the half-orc of a lost puppy needing comfort. Fresh anger flared at Ahroun’s decision to bring the whole team along. Half had never been down this far, and even though the twins had been on hunts before, those were above-ground. It was different down here, where the dark played tricks on your eyes and the monsters didn’t have to worry about hiding in shadows. Doran was the only one she could trust, and between Gaius and the rest of them, the goblin would always come first. She couldn’t say she blamed him, truth be told.

The dragonborn was several meters ahead, almost out of sight except for the glint of the flashlight on his red scales. He wasn’t paying attention, again. Quickening her pace, Vola slogged her way through the muck until she was within earshot. “Boss.”

“What?” 

She winced and put a hand up to block the beam as the flashlight swung around. “Do you have to shine that in my face?”

“What do you want.” The edge to his voice made Vola sigh.

“You’re too far ahead, we’re having a hard time keeping up.”

“Move faster.” 

“ _No_ ,” she snapped. “This is new terrain for all of us and half the team’s never been below ground before. You can wait, unless you wanna do this yourself.”

The startled silence lasted for half a second. Then the predictable low snarl. “Why don’t you try that again.”

“I meant what I said.” 

The silence stretched for a second longer this time as Ahroun digested this. The flashlight still shone in her face, so it was hard to gauge his reaction. But Vola found herself not needing to guess, when the light abruptly clicked off and his growl whispered warm in her ear. Claws landed lightly on her neck, dragging on her flesh. The force of his hand pushed her against the damp brick. 

“In the army, you’d have been shot for mouthing off like that.”

“We’re not in the army,” Vola replied flatly, refusing to let her voice waver. He didn’t deserve it, and he would exploit any weakness of hers if she showed it. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, but she forced her facial muscles to stay relaxed, breathing through her mouth. She didn’t see so much as feel the panic of the group as they milled behind her. 

“Ahroun.” Doran’s voice sounded from behind her, tightly calm. “There’s no need for that.”

The dragonborn’s calculating yellow eyes flicked from her to Doran and back again. Abruptly he withdrew, leaving a trickle of red on Vola’s neck. “Ungrateful. I’m about to lead you on the biggest hunt of your life and all you can do is whine that I’m walking a little fast.” 

“Look, none of us are sayin’ it’s a bad reason,” Doran interrupted.“But there’s a reason we’re down here that you haven’t shared with us. If we’re gonna risk our lives for a payload, then sure. But you haven’t said we’re getting a payload, which makes me think we’re down here for another reason.” At Ahroun’s silence, he pushed. “Am I wrong about that?”

“You want to know why I dragged you all the way down here? Getting rid of bloodthirsty monsters for the city just isn’t good enough for you, I guess. You need something _more_. Fine. You know what a dodecahedron is?”

“A twelve-sided polyhedron,” Vola answered flatly. “Everybody knows that.”

“Um...I don’t,” Cerise said.

“Me neither,” Victor added. 

“What’s a polyhedron?” Gaius asked. 

“It’s like a cube but with twelve sides instead of six.”

“Professor Vee to the rescue,” Ahroun sneered. “Yes, that’s right. And yes, Yuan-Ti have one.”

“We’re gonna steal it?” Victor queried, curious.

“Bingo.”

“Why?” Doran asked. “Is it rare?”

“Extremely,” Ahroun replied, a toothy grin decorating his face for the first time since they’d come down here. In the dim light it looked especially menacing. “It’s the only one of its kind, and they practically worship the damn thing. It’ll throw the whole nest into chaos.”

“Good chaos or bad chaos?” Vola questioned skeptically. The mention of a twelve-sided idol wasn’t something she’d run across in any of her research. Although the significance of the number twelve was everywhere in Yuan-Ti mythology, so it wasn’t a stretch to think they might have something like this... “Are we just stealing their idol and hocking it? Cause I doubt they’re gonna just let us walk in and take it.”

“Oh no. You have free license to waste anyone who gets in your way,” Ahroun growled. “This thing hasn’t been seen in sixty years. Last week my source got a tip that it had surfaced again. This is more than just an idol. It’s a powerful magical weapon. Something that will give folks like us a way to permanently turn the tide.”

“What source?” Doran frowned. “I haven’t heard anything from my network about this do-deca-whatever-you-call-it--”

“Dodecahedron,” Vola and Ahroun answered at the same time. 

“That thing. I haven’t heard anything at all about this. Who’d you say you heard this from again?”

“Who my source is isn’t your concern. He’s trustworthy.” The annoyance was back in Ahroun’s voice again.

“But are you sure taking this isn’t just gonna poke the bear?” Doran pressed.

“Positive. My intel is solid. They’ll scatter like the roaches they are.” The dragonborn’s voice was firm and brooked no room for further argument. “Now. I would like to find them sometime today. Is that okay with you all?”

“Yes,” Victor, Cerise, and Gaius answered in unison. 

Ahroun glanced at Doran and Vola. “How ‘bout you two? Is that a worthy enough cause?”

“It’s never been about that, Ahroun.” Doran scratched a finger over his jawline, shifting under his leader’s gaze. “Just wanted to make sure we had all the pieces in place before going in. That’s all.”

“I made a decision and you need to trust me that I know what I’m doing. When you need to know more than what I’m telling you know, I’ll make sure you know it.” The yellow eyes shifted to Vola. “Got that Falone?”

“Yeah boss,” Vola mumbled. 

“Good.” Ahroun turned away and continued sloshing down the tunnel. Vola waited, trailing back until she was level with Doran and sure she was out of the dragonborn’s earshot.

“This doesn’t feel right,” she began to mutter. “I’ve never heard of the Yuan-Ti having that kind of--”

“Vola,” Doran replied wearily. “Just leave it.”

“But what if he’s wro--”

“Then he is. But we’re deep in it now. The only way out is down. You copy?” Without waiting for an answer he brushed past, leaving her confused in the dark. After a stunned moment, she followed after him. Being in the minority was a familiar feeling, but being just plain outnumbered was another beast altogether, and Vola found herself reluctant to speak up again. Even though the small voice in the back of her mind hammered at her, insisting that something wasn’t right, she kept her mouth firmly closed and her eyes on her feet.

The tunnel had begun to slope sharply down again. The elves had built the system millenia ago without any of the modern technology that other cities had, and New Darpana Bay’s attitude towards the maze of tunnels underneath it had been ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’. As a result, the slick surface beneath their feet was ancient cobblestone, not precast concrete. The filth of hundreds of years of sewage greased the bottoms of their shoes and smeared their clothes and hands wherever they touched the sides. Gravity slowly churned the river of debris to their left. The brown water, which had the consistency of runny eggs, poured down a cutoff point and dead-ended at a wall. A sucking sound from the corner and a telltale circular twist indicated another drain. 

“Did we take a wrong turn?” Doran ventured to ask Ahroun as the dragonborn halted in his tracks, staring at the wall. 

“Nope. This is the main line. And that’s our way down.” A clawed hand pointed to the shadows. Off to the right, just above the lip of the water line, was a latticework spiral staircase. “Maintenance accesses.” The staircase was black, the slick surface glistening in their flashlight beams. The tunnel had clearly flooded before, and somewhat recently from the looks of it. 

“And how far down does this go?” Doran queried.

“Down to the bottom, if they haven’t given out yet.”

“Gods. How many flights is that?”

“Twelve,” Vola answered. “Give or take.”

“That’s deep,” Victor remarked. Vola pressed her lips together to squelch the second half of her sentence - that if they got stuck down there, they’d be stuck twelve floors deep and scrambling up a spiral staircase slicked in filth while who knew what chased them. Ahroun would bark at her, and it wouldn’t change anything to say it.

“And that’s just where the blueprints end,” Ahroun replied, the tinge of satisfaction in his voice unmistakeable. “No maintenance workers come down this far anymore.”

There was that feeling of eyes on her back again. No matter how many times she flashed the light behind her, it was always empty….but _something_ knew they were there. She could feel it in her gut. Grasping the filthy railing, she hurriedly shuffled after the group as they began to descend down the stone steps. 

The rushing water slowly faded away into nothing as they climbed down. The stone column seemed to absorb rather than echo the noise they made, wetly clinging to the sounds as they were produced. Lengths of old chain hung from above, black and dripping like long strings of saliva. The air had an odd tang to it.

“What’s that smell?” Gaius complained. His voice seemed unnaturally loud after the silence.

“Shh,” Cerise said.

“What’s that smell?” he asked again, but quieter.

Doran replied in a whisper. “Sewer gases. They get trapped this far down and never make it up top.” Nausea rolled through her at the sudden thought of an enormous creature holding its breath as they climbed into its gaping mouth. _It’s not real. It’s not real._ The thought didn’t seem to comfort her at all. 

“There’s something else,” Gaius said. “But I can’t place it.”

“You’re the one with the nose,” Victor’s voice floated up from below. “You’d know better than we would.”

“ _Shhh_ ,” Cerise said again. “What’s that sound?”

All movement halted on the staircase at Cerise’s words. In silence, the group strained. Vola flashed her light down. Cerise’s waxy skin glistened with sweat. She looked back up at the half-orc, her blue eyes wide with fear. 

“I don’t--” Vola started to say, but then something shifted in her peripheral, and all she could scream was, “Cerise, get down!”

Cerise’s shriek was cut off, her flashlight clattering madly down the stairs. A quiet hiss as _something_ rippled behind the blonde teenager. Ahroun’s deep growl, Victor’s terrified yelling, and a slice of something wet through meat. Then a very distinct splattering far below. Cerise’s light rolled to a stop at the bottom of the staircase, a faint beam cutting through the darkness that clearly illuminated a splash of bright red.

“Cerise?!” Victor cried, his voice twisted in panic. 

“She’s all right,” Ahroun sighed. Vola shone her light down at the sight of Cerise hyperventilating on the stairs, blonde curls dripping red. Ahroun’s black blade was withdrawn, glimmering wetly in the dim light. Draped on the railing was the mangled leathery form of bat wings and stringy muscle. The body was easily as tall as Vola. It’s head was missing, blood spurting freely from the neck.

“Holy fuck,” Doran whistled. “Quick thinking boss.” As Cerise’s hyperventilating morphed to hiccups, Ahroun cleaned his blade in silence. “Nightwings?”

“A small one,” the dragonborn replied. “Where there’s one, there’s two. Keep an eye out. Especially you.” He nodded towards Gaius. “They go for small prey.”

“Speaking of two--” Vola muttered. As a group, the hunters turned as Vola flipped the beam of light upwards. Against the wall, clinging to the black viscera of the tunnel was a barely distinguishable form. In the full beam of the light, it was still so well camouflaged it was hard to tell anything was even there. But then it shifted and the size of the thing stalking them became clear. Gaius let out a small squeak.

“Stay close to us, Gaius,” Vola ordered. “And gimme your crossbow.” The goblin handed it over without a word. Vola traded him her flashlight. “Keep it trained on it, okay?”

The beam was shaky, but Gaius did as he was told. Vola propped the crossbow on the ground against her leg and with both hands cocked it back until it clicked. Then, retrieving a bolt from Gaius’ pack, she rested the crossbow on her forearm and loaded the arrow. She quickly flicked her lighter over the cotton-soaked tip and the bolt tip burst into a knot of green flame. “Don’t move the light,” she barked again. Bringing the stock of the crossbow against her shoulder, she calmly aimed for the black form on the wall and squeezed the trigger.

She knew she’d hit it before the bolt landed. The flames spread across its oily body like a match to gasoline and the huge form let out a scream as it lost its grip on the wall. Writhing in pain, the monster plummeted in a fiery ball to the earth. Easily half again as large as the first, it hit the ground with another splatter and a thud, where chunks of flame abruptly sizzled out. 

“Nice work Falone,” Ahroun grunted. 

“Thanks boss,” she replied neutrally, unsure to handle the sudden compliment. Handing the crossbow back to Gaius, she took her flashlight back from the goblin, whose face radiated awe as he stared at her with eyes large as saucers. Seeing his worshipful look unnerved her more than Ahroun’s compliment. She coughed uncomfortably, choosing to scan the walls for more creatures. After a few moments, she announced, “I think we’re in the clear for now.”

“Almost to the bottom. Let’s go,” the dragonborn announced. With a scrape of boots, the pace resumed and the rest of the group shook themselves into action. Cerise was still hiccuping, but with a look on her face that Vola had seen before. It was the same look that the twins got every time anything vaguely vampiric crossed their paths. As they hit the bottom of the stairs, Cerise bent to pick up her flashlight. A vicious kick sent the head of the nightwing _thunking_ against the wall with a fresh spray of blood. 

“Keep that anger, Cerise,” Ahroun said approvingly. “You’ll need it for what’s coming.”

======================================================================

It had never occured to Vola before that Ahroun could have anxiety, but that was the only word that fit. Already snappish and cranky, their leader lapsed into an uneasy silence that quickly infected the rest of the group. Thicker than the fog that enveloped the tunnels, it chilled Vola to her bones. Cerise had Victor’s hand again, their grip tight as they walked. Gaius had done the same with Doran, and although he didn’t hold Vola’s hand, he made sure to keep himself between the two of them as he’d been told. Only Ahroun was unattached. Was this how he’d been in the military? The lone soldier wandering the battlefield ahead of the flank? The image seemed to fit somehow.

Ahroun paused as the tunnel dead-ended into space. The group clustered behind the dragonborn. Around them the echo of emptiness was filled with the faraway sound of rushing water. And….Vola strained her ears. 

“What is…”

“Listen,” Ahroun interrupted her. In the silence, she waited. There it was again, under the current of the water. A low droning hiss. 

“We found ‘em,” Doran said, his voice quiet with admiration. “I will admit, I had my doubts, boss. But you were right.”

“But where’s it coming from?” Vola asked.

“That way. And keep your voice down.” Ahroun jutted his chin across the expanse. On the other side of the emptiness was another tunnel. Vola shone her light down. Below their feet, not six inches from where they stood, was another drop. The fog obscured the bottom from view, even through the powerful beam of her light. About four feet down was a lip of stone, and perched on it was a single narrow board spanning the chasm. 

“That doesn’t look safe,” Doran said doubtfully. “Maybe it’d hold Gaius and Cerise, but I wouldn’t bet money on the rest of us.”

“I have rope,” Gaius said suddenly. A chance to feel helpful at last, Vola supposed. He reached into his pack and produced a coil of nylon rope. The dragonborn eyed the smaller figure thoughtfully.

“Nice work short stack.” Withdrawing the rope, their leader twisted one end into a loop. “Falone - light?” The half-orc obeyed, shining her light across the expanse. On the other end was a rusty pipe that had been snapped in half long ago. It was for this that Ahroun aimed the rope, lassoing the pipe on the first try. With motions borne of long practice, he tightened the cinch. Glancing around them, he settled on a pipe above their head, knotting the other end around the steel expertly. “Ladies first?”

Vola sighed. She’d expected as much. Grabbing the line, she descended precariously onto the board, clinging to the rope as much as her weight would let her allow. The board groaned under her weight. The feeling of being a fish on a hook was back, accompanied by a wave of vertigo. Inching across bit by bit, she kept both fists tightly coiled around the rope. If the board snapped under her weight, she wouldn’t fall. If the rope snapped…

With a shiver, she landed on solid ground on the other end. The droning hiss was accompanied by discordant notes from some musical instrument. They were going the right way. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to feel good about this or not. One by one the rest of the group crossed. Miraculously the board did not break, although it bowed dangerously under Ahroun’s weight. When the dragonborn’s feet finally touched the ground, even he looked relieved to be on solid land again. The return trip would be interesting, if they made it back this way. If they made it back.

“I want full silence from all of you after this point,” he ordered. “No sniping at each other, no whining, none of that shit. This is the real deal and we are only gonna have one chance to surprise these assholes. Is that clear?”

“Yes boss,” the group murmured as one. 

“Falone?”

“Yeah boss,” Vola replied impatiently. He gave her a stern look at the tone, but continued after a moment of awkward silence.

“Remember, we’re lookin’ for a twelve-sided cube. It should have writing all over it. It’s gonna be heavily guarded.” Ahroun withdrew the blueprints from his pocket again, and the group huddled over it. “This thing we’re about to crawl down used to be a hydro turbine, which means that the nest is down where the rotor and fans would be. Lots of steel between us and them. Lots of places for us to hide, which is good. But it’s places for them to hide too, so stay sharp.” He pointed to the blueprint, where the turbine’s long shaft descended down. “When you get to the bottom of the shaft, there should be a lip right above the nest. Land there and fan out along the perimeter. When I signal, we’ll move. And again, this is our only shot to take ‘em by surprise. I don’t wanna have to say it again. Any questions?”

“If things go south, what’s our escape route?” Vola asked.

“Just follow me and I’ll lead you out.”

Vola blinked, unsure if she’d heard right. “What?”

His gaze was iron, but he didn’t respond to her, directing his next words to the group. “Yuan-ti are good fighters, but they can’t climb worth shit. Their routes in and out of this place are likely on the ground level and uncharted besides.” To emphasize this point, Ahroun flipped the cover on the blueprints to show he was on the last page. “Anything below this is off the map. Stick to the plan, watch each other’s backs, and shoot to kill. We do this for the folks up top that can’t do it for themselves. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” the group agreed. With that, the circle was broken. Ahroun produced more rope from his pack, lightweight and made specifically for climbing. The length was flung into the darkness of the pipe, disappearing from Vola’s view. As usual, the dragonborn motioned for her to go first and she obliged. She was glad for it actually, since she was sure the look on her face would have made their leader snap at her if he’d seen it. Who knew where he’d gotten his intel from, but it’s nothing that she’d given him. Yuan-ti couldn’t climb? Maybe that was true - certainly she hadn’t _seen_ them climb anything before - but that didn’t mean they _couldn’t_. And ‘just follow me and I’ll lead you out’ was not an escape plan. Did that mean he didn’t have one, or that the route was so obvious in his mind she shouldn’t have asked? The only route down was the rope she was currently sliding down. Climbing three hundred feet back up, one at a time, when the creatures chasing you had routes in and out of a structure that you didn’t have any visibility to….what if one of them was injured? What if the Yuan-ti had a tunnel to the top of the shaft? What if they were waiting up there for them when the group emerged? Or, worse...what if they waited till everyone was halfway up and then just cut the rope?

Vola’s hands faltered at the thought and a heartstopping second of weightlessness made her stomach flip-flop. She gripped it tightly with both hands and closed her eyes tightly, breathing tthrough her nose until the moment passed. She considered calling up to Ahroun to warn him of this possibility that he clearly hadn’t thought of, but he’d said no talking. They were in it now.

_Fuck you fuck you fuck you--_ and she kept climbing down.

The turbine hadn’t been used in decades. Motionless blades as wide as a truck floated past her in the darkness. The cacophony of wails from below drifted past her, bouncing off the walls and leaving her disoriented. Below her lay the giant circular fan, resembling a giant drain. 

The tips of her boots touched the steel of the fan and she cautiously rested her weight on the knife’s edge under her feet. The blades of this turbine were wide enough for her to slither between them easily. Feeling her way along the blades, she navigated the gap and followed it down, using the rope as her guide. A faint green light met her eyes as her feet met solid stone. She was perched on a lip of rock, maybe three feet wide. Crouching on the lip, she took her first look at the source of the sound. “Oh.” The word escaped her mouth before she could take it back.

A dim phosphorescence glowed from the stones encasing the circle. The green light cast everything in soft dreamlike shadow. An altar lay in the center of the circle, and it took Vola a moment to recognize the shape as a twelve-pointed star. In the center of the altar lay a twelve-sided shape. Even from here it was impossible to miss. Black blood pooled in a basin below, dripping over pulsing green glyphs, through a narrow trough, and into the waiting open mouth of a figure cloaked in black. The thick muscle of a tail coiled neatly around the figure’s prostrate form. Trailing from its neck was a leash clipped to a lead on a collar. 

The figure holding the other end of the leash made Vola’s blood run cold. Towering eight feet tall, the scaled terror was a mass of ropy muscle and sinew. Protruding jaws revealed four sets of sharp teeth. It looked as if it was halfway through some sort of transformation, with the digits of a human hand fused together to make two pincer-like claws and a swollen thumb. Piercing yellow eyes with tiny slitted pupils darted back and forth, a black forked tongue dipping out every so often to taste the air. To its left lay a cage of smaller figures, all cloaked in black like the one drinking blood from the altar. They had clearly been humanoid once, but whatever they were now was far from it. All of the captives were in various beginning stages of metamorphosis, some with large patches of scales growing over their body and skin hanging limply like dead leaves on a tree. Others looked human but the flickering of a forked tongue over a lipless mouth betrayed them for what they were. Scattered around them were more Yuan-Ti. Most of them were as big or bigger than the monstrosity that guarded the cage, and covered with a wet sheen that glimmered off their scales in the bioluminescent glow. 

A clawed hand landed heavy on her shoulder, and Ahroun slapped something into her palm. Vola looked down. It was the baggie of cocaine with a tiny straw inside. Her palms were slick with grime, but she shakily opened the bag and fished out the straw. Submerging the end into the white powder, she snorted sharply into one nostril and then the other. Pins stabbed behind her eyeballs as it hit her brain. Instantly, beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. Without waiting for the first hit to die down, she bent down and took another, and then a third. There. That was the end of the bag. 

The roar was back in her ears. She could practically feel her pupils dilating, the nervous energy coursing through her veins, her heart pumping blood through lean muscle. The fear spiked again, and with it, something else. Vola could never quite put her finger on the sensation, but only intense physical activity or rough sex seemed to ever get rid of it. Heat radiated from her skin. Coiling her legs under her, she fished Veristor, her enchanted Louisville Slugger, from her pack. They hated fire? They really weren’t gonna like what came next. 

The rest of the group had fanned out on the ledge. Beside her, Victor’s breathing was heavy, his eyes dilated as he rode the high cresting through his system. His hands were balled into fists around the trigger of a shotgun that would punch a hole through the unfortunate asshole on the other end. Gaius had his crossbow, the heavy apparatus shaking in his small hands. Cerise had made her own gun herself, a flamethrower hacked together from a cluster of four slim propane tanks attached to a length of reinforced pipe and duct-taped to a butane torch. Doran also had a crossbow like Gaius, although his was held firmly in a defensive position, ready to fire at the first sign of an attack. Ahroun didn’t need weapons to be terrifying in a fight. Of them all, only he and Vola didn’t have any ranged weapons. Maybe that was a tactical mistake, but she found that she did better in close quarters anyway.

The drip of mucus on the bare skin of her shoulder brought her out of her thoughts. Glancing down at her shoulder, she blinked at the thick glob of phlegm and reached up a hand to smear it away. Funny. It was warm. She hadn’t seen an open pipe on their way down. Maybe something she’d missed…? Her eyes drifted upwards.

The set of jaws that hung not a foot above her stood poised to snap tight, saliva hanging off in thick strings. 

“VERISTOR--” The word ripped itself free of her throat, echoing as loudly in the stone chamber as if she’d rung an alarm. 

Veristor flared to life with fierce blue joy. Vola jammed the bat upwards and the jaws closed tight on twelve inches of fiery steel. The _crack_ of bone against metal was nothing compared to the gurgled shriek the monster gave as fire licked up its oily scales. Choking on the weapon, it released it with a burst of bloody black ash and gave an ear-splitting cry. Answering cries echoed high above and below them.

The Yuan-Ti hadn’t been taken by surprise at all. They’d known the hunters were coming. The thought flashed through her mind in a split second. Then instinct kicked into overdrive, sending her rational brain shrieking into the recesses of her head. 

The roar of Ahroun from the corner. A heat of flame shooting into the air. The tang of propane and ash. Gaius screaming. Victor’s shotgun thundering into the chest of a cloaked snake-- 

Somehow her brass knuckles were already wrapped around her fingers. She swung upwards, trusting the course of her fist. As it connected with slick flesh, words formed themselves on her tongue of their own accord, coming out in a fierce snarl. “ _Suffer Reduviidae.”_ A bolt of power surged through her arm, cold and strong as titanium. “ _Aculeata!”_

The thing above her seized in pain, another wet shriek echoing from its maw as a ripple of energy shot out from her knuckles, embedding spikes as long as her finger into the skin. Another word forced itself from between her teeth, and without knowing what she was saying, she knew what it would do. “ _Rupt.”_

The explosion threw her off the ledge and she tumbled down the slope in an avalanche of meat and blood. Above her a body hung by its pincer claws, jerking and spurting thick red everywhere from the stump where its head used to be. She glanced down stupidly at the knuckles in her hand. Where had those words come from? What had taken control? She could practically hear its bloodthirsty demand. _MORE--_

Instinct grabbed the reins again. She ducked as a whistle sang past her ear. A dart embedded itself in the steel just above her head. She glanced backward at a cloaked Yuan-Ti as it lowered the blowgun from its lips. Spinning on one heel, she lined up her swing and threw her shoulder into the right hook. The satisfying _crunch_ was enough confirmation for her. The cocaine soared in her veins as her weapon sang in her hands. This was better than sex. She could do this all day.

“VOLA!” The high-pitched scream was thick with panic. Whipping around, Vola searched for the source of the noise. There, in the corner. Gaius frantically crab-walking backwards away from a slobbering Yuan-Ti the size of a cart. The thing was halfway through its metamorphosis, crawling towards him on bloody hands while dragging its scaly body behind.

“Shoot it Gaius!” she shouted, but his crossbow was gone. With a grunt, she launched her body forward. Faster than a whip, the tail shot at her, lashing her jaw and sending a burst of pain through her face. She coughed as she connected hard with the ground. For a dizzying moment, everything was purple and red. Where was she? 

“Volaaaa--” Gaius shrieked again, his voice cutting short in a strained gurgle. 

“Noooo!” Vola’s stomach dropped in panic. Staggering to her feet, she clutched her throbbing jaw just in time to see the Yuan-Ti’s body tighten around the goblin’s small frame. His hand was the only thing visible from the mass of coils. “Let--him--GO!” Somehow she closed the distance, the bat a beacon of blue flame in her hand. The thing looked at her with venomous hatred, opening a human-shaped jaw far wider than a human was meant to do. Before it could devour Gaius head-first, Veristor shattered its spine. Vola brought up the bat and took another swing, the blow echoing like thunder in the small space. Again, again, again, again. The Yuan-Ti howled in pain, throwing up its arms as if asking for mercy. _None for you._

A pair of arms gripped her leg and she almost swung at it before she recognized Gaius. He was sobbing, shitting himself, and clinging to her all at the same time. “Save me, _please don’t let me die--!”_

“Seven hells, Gaius!” The piteous cry cut through the haze and the pain. With the force of adrenaline, she jerked him to his feet by his collar, disconnecting his grip in the same instant. “Where’s your crossbow?”

“I don’t know---”

“Well _godsdamnit_ you’re not supposed to drop it the second the fighting starts--” Her yelling was cut off by the primal scream of another changeling as it leapt towards them. In a flash she’d ripped Invicta from her belt holster. The stun gun let out a menacing roar and a bolt of lightning blasted from the tines. Vola landed with a _thump_ on the stone floor, the wind temporarily knocked from her lungs. The room was illuminated clear as day before being plunged back into shadow and shrieks of pain rose from the room as eyes adjusted to a life in the dark were seared in blinding pain. Smoke rose from a pile of charred meat.

“Holy shit,” Gaius breathed.

“Someone’s been pent-up,” Vola muttered.

“What?”

“Nevermind. Here.” She shoved Invicta into Gaius’ hand. “Hang onto that for me, will you? Try not to drop this one!”

“But I don’t know how to shoot it!” He cried helplessly as she collected herself.

“There’s only two buttons - on, and shoot. And it’s always on! Just remember--”

“FALONE!” Ahroun’s roar drowned out the rest of her reply. “GET THE DEVICE!” His silver claws flashed, and a changeling’s pincer hand suddenly ended in a ropy stump as another one wrapped its coils around his leg. A column of flame from Cerise’s flamethrower shot into the air and the acrid smell of burnt meat filled Vola’s nose. She and her brother were back to back, facing off against two of the big ones. Each of them towered over the twins. Cerise was shouting something to Victor, but Vola couldn’t hear it. 

“On my back!” she ordered to Gaius. The goblin scrambled onto the half-orc’s back gratefully, clutching the glowing stun gun in one clawed hand. “Where’s your dad?!”

“I don’t know!” he sobbed. “Are we gonna die?”

“We all do someday,” she replied grimly. Digging her heels in, she charged forward towards the altar. Leaping over the corpse at her feet, she landed hard on the dais. The altar was covered in ritualistic carvings, each furrow stained black. The device was there, sitting in the blood-filled basin. Its glyphs glowed in shifting shades of green and blue. “Grab it!” she shouted to Gaius. With shaking hands, he stood on her back, using her shoulders as footholds as he strained to reach the bowl. 

An ominous screech of metal on metal sounded from behind her. “Uh, Vola?” Gaius asked. Vola glanced over at the trapdoor yawning open behind the dais.

“Grab it, grab it now Gaius!” 

“I can’t reach it!”

With an annoyed _huff_ , Vola popped him off her shoulders. With a squeak, he lurched higher, balancing his feet on both her palms. Veristor clattered to the floor and she put one boot on the grip to keep it from rolling. “Can you reach it now?!” 

A clawed pincer hand emerged from the trapdoor. Another. A deep hiss from within the darkness. The crest of a headplate--

“I... _yech_ ….I almost got it!” Gaius shouted triumphantly. “Just a little further…”

The only warning Vola had was the hiss of a tail as it cut through the air. Gaius let out a shriek, ducking and losing his balance. He tumbled out of sight. A crash of pottery. Warmth splashing across her face, across her eye. Viscous and black. “Gaius?!” Vola yelled. “Fuck--” Frantically she wiped her face and scrubbed her hand on her jeans. The blood was everywhere - in her dreads, on her clothes, and _gods_ it stank--

Another quiet hiss through the air and she ducked, only to get slammed by a scaly body. Grunting, she skidded backwards. “GAIUS!”

“I got it!” the shrill voice cried. She opened her eye that hadn’t been hit and saw the goblin clutching the dodecahedron in both hands. He held it above his head in triumph. “I got it Vola--”

The room froze. Twenty pairs of lidless yellow eyes rolled towards the goblin. Gaius gulped and took a tentative step backward. A deep rumble began to echo from the throats of the monsters present. The biggest two, the ones that had been closing in on the twins, gave out a murderous roar. The one coiled around Ahroun immediately dropped him like a sack of potatoes.

“Vola…!” The goblin edged nervously away from the hulking forms closing in. “What do I do?”

Only a second to think. “Toss it over to me!”

“NO!” Ahroun shouted. “Toss it here, Gaius. That’s an order!” 

For a painful second, Gaius looked back and forth between Vola and Ahroun. Even from here, Vola could see that the dragonborn was too far. The risk was too high that it would be intercepted - or worse, that the teenager would be cut off as soon as the Yuan-Ti closed the gap. Groaning, she rolled into a crouch and prepared to sprint towards the chaos. Why couldn’t she see out of her right eye? 

A blur of brown, gray, and glowing blue sped past her peripheral and she winced as the _smack_ of metal was accompanied by a roar that shook the stone beneath her feet. Flames licked the oiled skin and the creature reeled back, swatting at Doran who nimbly dodged the clumsy swipe.

“Dad!” Gaius cried in relief. 

The wiry human man cupped his son close to him, wielding Veristor in the other hand against the horde that was closing in. “Time to go, yeah?”

“FALL BACK!” Ahroun shouted. “FOLLOW ME!”

_SLAM!_

She was sailing backwards, just long enough to see Gaius’ mouth form a small _o_ in surprise before the floor came up to meet her. The ground was sloped and she rolled backward. Her vision was filled with scaled limbs and chaos and shouting. The lip of the trapdoor flew past her and she groped wildly for it. Too late. Vertigo seized her. Clawed hands reached out for her shirt, scraped the cloth, and got nothing. 

“Volaaaa!!!” Gaius’ voice echoed.

She was falling, falling into darkness. _Wham!_ Her shoulder hit wood, shattered the boards, and she kept going. _Crack!_ Vola cried out in pain as a two-by-four connected with her rib. Wildly she floundered in the air.. The wind whipped past her. _Smack!_ Plastic netting slapped her face and instinctively she made a grab for it. It sagged with the sudden addition of her weight and she hung on blindly for several heartstopping seconds before it, too, snapped under the strain. With a _bang_ she landed on her back. Something else, something deep in her body, popped with a wet snap and she cried out in pain. For a heartbeat she whimpered in the darkness. 

“Fuck you!!” Vola screamed. Was she speaking to the Yuan-Ti? Ahroun? Herself? It was impossible to say. But the answering hisses from high above were enough to send a jolt of fear through her spine. Tentatively she opened her left eye. The green light was high above her, too high. How far had she fallen?

Yellow points glittered at her from the darkness, and Vola had the sickening realization that she might actually die down here, right now. Veristor and Invicta were gone, still with Doran and Gaius. All she had were her brass knuckles and her flashlight. With shuddering hands, she reached for the light on her belt and clicked it on.

The space above her erupted into screeches of pain. She wasn’t sure how many there were, but her brain screamed _too many_. It was impossible to count but the mass of muscle and scales and claws was enough to drive her to sheer panic. Her one saving grace right now was that they clearly weren’t used to bright light and the beam had stunned them. It might be the only head start she’d get. Scrabbling to her feet, she broke into a run. 

The world throbbed red, stuttering in and out of focus. Of all times for her high to kick out, it _would_ happen right now. The chemical confidence had worn off. In its place was blind hysteria, the kind an animal has when it realizes it’s no longer the hunter, but the hunted. She could _hear_ them as they chased her, their guttural hisses bouncing off the stone and growing louder with each passing turn. She ducked around corners, the beam of her light scattering every which way. _Keep moving, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop_ \-- and then all coherent thought left her head as she came to a fork in the tunnel. 

On a whim, she picked the left one, dashing down it as fast as her legs would carry her. Something broken sloshed deep in her body, she could feel it in her ribs. Every breath was agony. Her head pounded. Turn the corner, run, another fork, doesn’t matter just pick one, turn, run, turn, run, run, turn, she was losing them, yes, the noises were getting fainter, run, another fork, turn, turn--

Dead end. 

Her heart throbbed wildly in her chest. Before her towered a stone wall. No. No no no. Hyperventilating, she turned to face the way she’d come. She was going to die here down in the dark no one would ever find her body she would never see daylight again this was it this was it this was it--

“Hey!” a voice whispered angrily from above. Whipping the flashlight around, Vola shone it toward the noise. Perched on a protruding length of pipe sat..something. Shrouded all in black rubber from head to foot, the figure couldn’t have been more than four feet tall. Leathery ears poked from an old-fashioned gas mask, quartz lenses where the eyeholes should be. They stared at her dark and unblinking. “T-t--turn off your damn light!” The figure spluttered. As if to punctuate the words, the roars of the war party echoed down the tunnel. 

Only a second to decide. Sit here in the dark with that thing? Or take her chances with the Yuan-Ti? What if it was a trap?

Too late. In spite of her better judgment, Vola found herself clicking the light off. Instantly she was shrouded in complete darkness. Huddling against the wall, she sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. Fight or flight, and this time flight had won. Every cell in her body trembled with terrified silence. She found herself praying to whoever would listen that those things wouldn’t find her. 

She couldn’t see so much as feel that other bodies had entered the space with her. At the end of the hall the hisses and scraping grew louder. They’d caught up to her. Any moment now they’d taste her air, find her in the darkness, devour her. The monsters under the bed were real and they were here with her in the shadows and they stank of rot….

Something clattered off to her left and a cry went up from the Yuan-Ti as they continued on past her. Not daring to even breathe, Vola sat there in the darkness until long after the commotion had passed. What if something had stayed behind and was even now waiting in the silence for her? Too terrified to move, she stayed frozen in that position, hands hugging her knees in the dark. 

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, but after what seemed like an eternity her legs began to cramp. The only sound was the soft _drip drip_ of faraway water. Still she stayed put, until the hammering in her heart finally slowed. Throwing her hand over the beam, she tentatively clicked it back on. Only the deserted passageway greeted her. Letting a little more light filter through her hand, she pointed the beam up to the perch on the ceiling. Nothing.

Had she imagined it? Somehow Vola didn’t think so. But what else could it have been?

It didn’t matter. Vola let out a ragged sigh of relief. She was, for the first time today, truly alone. The fear that she’d been holding in since they’d first descended broke through her defenses, and she buried her face in her knees and sobbed, just grateful to be alive.

=====================================================================


	3. Expose the Symbols of Love and Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separated from the team, injured, and possibly miles below the city, Vola has only her wits and an unexpected allies to guide her back to the surface. Unfortunately the drugs have worn off and the poison in her system threaten to end her escape before it begins. 
> 
> CW/TW: Drug Use, Graphic Violence, Gore, Enslavement
> 
> Note:  
> This work contains lyrics from The Used, Pigface, and Leather Strip. All rights belong to the creators and recording artists.

_”I wanna walk through the valley of death_

_I wanna see the misery_

_E_ _xpose the symbols of love and hate_

_I wanna hear the blasphemy_

_Deep down in your soul_

_Fighting emotional breakdown_

_Coming up for air._

_Coming up for air."_

_Leather Strip "Coming up for Air"_

================================================================================================

Ahroun glanced up in surprise as Vola strode through the door. “Falone?” The dragonborn’s jaw dropped in astonishment and he rose to his feet. “Holy shit…”

Vola grimaced and dropped her filthy brass knuckles to the carpet. It felt so good to unclench her fist finally. The muddy weapon _thunked_ gently to the floor. “Yep. In the flesh.” Every muscle screamed to rest, but the coil of tension at the base of her spine shifted, just a bit. 

The bear hug she was greeted with nearly knocked her off her feet, and she laughed as the smiling, teary-eyed goblin glanced up at her. “We thought you were dead, we saw you fall down the hole, and--” Gaius spluttered. “I wanted to go back for you but Ahroun said you were dead--”

“I said you were as good as,” Ahroun cut in. The look on his face was as contrite as she’d ever seen him. “I’m glad to be wrong. No hard feelings?” He held out a hand.

She studied him for a thoughtful moment. “Nah. No hard feelings boss.” She returned the handshake.

“So, how did you get out?” Ahroun asked. He hadn’t let go of her hand. Gaius was still wrapped affectionately around her waist.

“I--” She paused. “Were your scales always like that?”

“Like what?”

She blinked. “Never mind.” Gaius’ grip had gotten tighter. “Kiddo, you’re squeezing me.” No response. “What’s your deal?”

“Oh don’t mind him.” Ahroun’s smile grew deeper, baring his teeth. “He’s just glad to see you’re _hoooooooo---”_ And his jaw elongated, opening like a snake’s to reveal a black chasm ringed by hollow wet fangs--

With a gasp, Vola jerked awake. Leaning over, she immediately threw up on the stone floor. The vomit burned acrid on her tongue and she choked on the twin fumes of sewage and her own stomach acid. Pinching her nose shut, she forced herself to take a breath through her mouth to cut off some of the smell. Nervously she settled back on shaky haunches. “Oh, gods…” she moaned. The world was tinged red again and the migraine was in full force, pounding against her head like a sledgehammer. Every motion hurt and her clothes were damp with sweat and gods knew what else. 

How long had she been asleep down here in the dark? There was no way to tell, but from the state of her hangover Vola estimated that it had at least been a few hours. It had taken most of the night for them to climb down as far as they had. She quickly did the math. It was probably sunrise up on the surface by now. Ahroun had planned for a tight schedule with no overnight stay belowground, but if they’d made it out of the Yuan-Ti nest, they still probably had a three or four hour hike before they reached a breach point. There was no way she’d catch up to them. 

Assuming they made it out. 

At the thought Vola’s stomach roiled again. Desperately she leaned over, but there was nothing left in her system to throw up, so she dry heaved over her shoes until her gut finally stopped twisting. Weak and shaky, she leaned against the wall. She needed to rehydrate and get food in her system or she’d start to crash. And all her spare food was in her backpack, which of course she’d left back in the nest. A wave of hopelessness crashed over her. After all that, she was going to die broken and alone far away from the sun and everyone she knew.

_Don’t panic,_ she thought to herself. _You can make it out of this. You just need to stop and think._ She took a deep raggedly breath and winced as her cracked rib sent a shooting pain through her abdomen. Mentally, she added “medical care” to the list of things that she needed. At that, the image of the friendly doc she’d run into at the free-clinic popped into her mind. She’d been young. Cute. Hopelessly naïve'. Optimistic. What had been her name again? 

_Okay Vola. Make a plan. Think through what you do have._

Brass knuckles, and a flashlight. That was it. Well, fuck.

  1. _You have light and a way to defend yourself._



True. Vola conceded the point. 

_All right._ The doctor stared at her, blue eyes wide and serious. Pulling her white hair into a bun, she clapped her hands together. _What else?_

_Where did you come from? And when did you become my voice of reason? I don’t even remember your name._

_It’ll come to you._ The doctor smiled brightly at her. _Keep thinking, Vola Falone. You’ll get out of this._

Vola managed a weak smile in return. _Okay._ Sighing, she rose to her feet, wincing at the fresh stab of pain. As quietly as she could, she felt her way along the wall until it ended at the intersection. Carefully, she listened for any sign of movement or noise. The air was silent and thick with the smell of dead things. It felt like nothing had moved down here in decades. If she hadn’t gotten chased here she might’ve been tempted to believe she was the only thing alive down this far.

Covering the beam with her light, she quietly clicked it on. Frowning, she clicked it off. Then on again. Her right eye….it was almost like it wasn’t reading the beam...had she hit it on the way down? Was it swollen shut? Gently she reached for the socket, then just as quickly jerked it away as her hands brushed against something hard and scaly. No no no. That was impossible. 

_Stop panicking. Think!_ The doctor berated her. 

She’d been splashed with something from that bowl on the altar. Everything had happened so fast, it was hard to remember…

_TRY._

Gaius had gotten hit. The bowl of blood - had it been blood? - had spilled on her. The Yuan-Ti had been drinking from it. The changelings had been in cages. Was this what they needed to make their transformation complete? The thought made the sweat go cold on her skin. Was she turning into one of those things now? The panic roared in her chest.

_Nat._

_See, I told you you’d remember my name._

_Do you think she could fix something like this?_

_Only one way to find out, isn’t there?_

_I don’t even know where to start, even if I did remember how I got here._

_Turn off your damn light._

“What?” Vola asked aloud, but the voice in her head had gone silent. Feeling crazy and more than a little foolish, the Half-Orc obeyed. In the darkness, she waited for her vision to adjust. 

A faint green glow caught her attention. Down the passageway and to the right. Keeping one hand along the wall, she crept towards the source, hardly daring to breathe. She was probably walking into a trap. _This is crazy. You’re just listening to the voices in your head and doing what they tell you to do. That’s what crazy people do._ Still, she kept walking. Turning the corner, she halted in her tracks. Slowly her eyes traveled upward. “Oh,” she breathed in awe.

The passageway dead-ended just like the one she’d left, but this one had a large drainage pipe running floor-to-ceiling. Leaks had sprung from it in all directions - millenia of no maintenance likely the culprit - and everywhere the splash radius touched, bioluminescent mushrooms grew. Their white caps were covered in green splotches of algae that gave off a soft glow. The plants carpeted the ground around the leak, even climbing the walls like ivy. The sight of plant life, even as alien as this, was so unexpected and beautiful that she found a lump forming in her throat at the sight. If something like this could survive in a place that sunlight never touched - perhaps she could too?

With trembling hands, Vola removed her bandanna from around her neck and wiped some of the green algae from the surfaces of the mushrooms. Using the rag as an applicator, she smothered the flashlight and her brass knuckles with the glowing mucus. She wasn’t hungry enough to try and eat one - yet. But if the batteries ran out before she made it back to the surface, she’d need another source of light. She shivered at the thought - but no, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. _One problem at a time, Vola Falone._

With the remaining paste on her bandanna, she ventured back into the passageway and smeared a giant arrow on the wall. There. Now if she somehow got lost, she’d know that she’d been this way before. Speaking of lost…

_How do I get out of here?_ She tried to recall the frantic sprinting path she’d taken a few hours back, but the twists and turns had been endless and she’d been panicking. Even if she could remember the path back, then what? She’d fallen to get down here. If she somehow managed to climb up, then she’d surface in the middle of a Yuan-Ti nest. Even assuming she got through it undetected, she’d climb back up the rope - assuming it was still there - and then look forward to a ten-hour hike back up subterranean tunnels. Oh, and Ahroun had the only set of blueprints, so she’d be doing it on memory alone. With only one good eye. 

A fresh wave of despair hit, strong enough to drive her to her knees. A racking sob burst free, and she choked it down, suddenly terrified that her noise would draw something to her. Silently she shook, tears rolling down her cheeks.

_There, there_ . The phantom of a reassuring pat on her head. _We’ll get out of this. We will._

“How,” Vola whispered, the sound barely audible even to her own ears. “There’s no way I can get back to that path.”

_So then we’ll find a different way. One step at a time. Think._

Vola woodenly stared down at the grimy stone floor. Her brain seemed sluggish, slow. The headache thudded through her skull. Tears dripped silently down her cheeks.

_I don’t think I’m ever gonna see you again, doc._ There was no response this time. Morosely Vola stared at the ground. Gaius. Doran. The twins. Hell, even Ahroun. What she wouldn’t give to see that scaly motherfucker right now, if only to deck him good for leaving her down here to die. Then again, maybe she was the last one alive. Maybe the Yuan-Ti had gotten them all. Maybe they were being sacrificed on that altar at this very second and she was the lucky one who had escaped with her life…

Wait.

The Aasimar’s face curled into a smirk.

“They weren’t sacrificing them,” Vola murmured. “They were….changing them.” 

_New converts, maybe?_

_Maybe._

_A whole lot of them. All sorts of different races. Kinda makes you wonder where they all got them from, huh? If they’re collecting cages full of new changelings...they’re not bringing them down a rope one at a time._

The answer seemed so clear, she wondered why she hadn’t seen it earlier. Yuan-Ti didn’t lay eggs or live birth any young, she remembered that much from the scraps she’d found in the library. The few autopsy records in the history books showed no reproductive organs of any kind in their physiology. They must replenish their numbers some other way. Metamorphosis of other races into Yuan-Ti biology would be a wonder of medical science...but here she was with scales over her eye, living proof that they had _something_ that could do the trick. 

They had another way up to the surface, and it was big enough to bring captives back down with them. All she had to do was find it.

A flare of hope lit in her chest. In front of her, the doc nodded triumphantly. _I knew you’d find a way._

_I haven’t found it yet,_ she thought back. Already she was on her feet.

_No. But you will._

_===================================================================_

_She’s twelve again. Her belongings stuffed in a trash bag sitting in the seat next to her. Why do they always give kids trash bags to put their things in? Would it be so hard to put them in a real bag?_

_Her social worker is human. Vola’s half human, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference. She’s seen that look before in other humans. They look at the color of her skin, her tiny tusks, her pointed ears, and all they see is ugliness. Now that’s all Vola sees too._

_“Where are we going?” she asks quietly._

_The social worker sighs. “You’re going to a new family. They’re very nice - three other girls just about your age, so you’ll have friends.” Vola winces. Boys she can handle. You hit them, they hit you, and then everybody just sort of moves on. But girls are….different. “Try to make this one work, okay Vola? Can you promise me you’ll at least try?”_

_The anger flares, hot and heavy in her throat, but she does her best to swallow it. She’d tried this time, she really had, but---_

_They don’t care, she reminds herself. Grown-ups aren’t your friend. Get that through your head, idiot._

_“Okay.”_

_“Good girl.”_

=======================================================================

How long had she been staring at the trash bags? Vola shook herself alert and steadied against the wall. She was drifting - not good. Her left eye drooped constantly, and her right eye still couldn’t seem to catch the light. Something pulsed gently around the eye socket, and the flutter of panic rose yet again in her gut at the thought.

“Don’t think about it,” she grumbled. Firmly she gave herself a hard pinch, the pain temporarily clearing the fog around her mind. Bad memories in the past, bad ones in the present. No relief thinking about days gone by. The depression was there, simmering in the background, but it had a powerful survival instinct to contend with, so there it sat. She sighed and glanced around.

Oh yes. That’s why she’d stopped. An unfamiliar glyph stared at her from the wall, swooping strokes of luminescent paint as bright in the murkiness as a neon sign. Thick lines converged to form a 3-pronged fork. A long tail angled down and to the left, making a lopsided Y. To its right, a curvy line like a sine wave, seemingly disconnected from the Y.. She’d stopped and studied it in puzzlement until her eyes had begun to drift. Now she blinked hard and forced herself to examine it again. Clearly it meant something. It poked at her consciousness, but the part of her brain that leapt at problem-solving felt dulled and slow today.

_“Keep walking,”_ Nat prodded. _“Don’t stop or you’ll fall asleep again.”_

“Gotta stop sometime, doc,” Vola mumbled, but she obeyed. One foot plodded in front of the other. One hand trailed along the concrete wall, dry as dust. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. 

“One more turn.” The walls were curved, the floor beneath her sloping gently. Every so often a turnoff would rise out of the darkness, gaping and silent. She’d hurried past the first ones, but even her adrenaline was spent. After the first three, she’d given them no more than a wary glance before pushing on. Where the hell was everyone?

“So, you were in the foster system huh?” the doctor asked.

“No relief thinking about days gone by.”

“I’m trying to keep you awake. What does that mean, anyway? ‘No relief in days gone by’.”

“It’s a poem.” Vola struggled to recall the lines in her head. “‘Life was a story, holding neither sob nor sigh, in the golden olden glory of the days gone by.’”

“What’s it mean?”

“I read it in a book when I was a kid. It’s about...having good memories and being happy thinking about the past.”

“But there’s no relief there for you?”

“Nah.” Vola shook her head. “I try not to think about it.”

“Being a foster kid, you mean?”

“Amongst other things. Everything good that ever happened to me came after all that.”

“They really shouldn’t give kids trash bags to put their shit in.”

“Tell me about it.” Vola drew in a ragged breath. _Can we switch? It’s hard to walk and talk at the same time._

_Of course,_ Nat shrugged. In Vola’s head, the doctor’s lab coat was smeared with bioluminescent algae, and streaks of it made her white hair and lavender skin gently glow. _You weren’t actually talking out loud anyway._

_Oh._ Vola blinked. _I knew that._

Another turnoff in the wall, inky shadow the only thing distinguishing it from the black crusted walls. Vola stopped in wonder at the painted sigil next to this turnout. A sideways caret angled to the right, meeting a gently curved vertical line at its point. Another S-curve twisted on the wall beside it. Something about the positioning of the lines tugged at her brain, but for some reason she just couldn’t place it. Her eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds.

_You said the next turnoff I could sleep. Well, I made it._

_Twenty minute nap,_ the doctor replied, frowning. _It’s not safe to sleep longer than that. You don’t know what else is down here._

Vola sank against the filthy wall, facing the yawning darkness. Better to face anything coming than have your back to it. _Twenty minutes._ She cuddled Reduviidae in her fist. The brass knuckles hadn’t left her hand once, but there was an undercurrent to the weapon that unsettled her. Had she not known better, she would have attributed part of that gnawing sense of hunger to the steel in her fist. But that was impossible. Weapons couldn’t get hungry. Could they?

Before her brain could digest that thought any further, her eyelids slammed shut. 

========================================================================

_The caestus is hungry. The man who wears it is unworthy. They all are. This one will last no longer than the rest._

_The vizier who bought this man is a gambler, but not a stupid one. To make sure his prize doesn’t die in the arena this time, the vizier ground the bones of the strongest bull into a fine powder before working the dust into the strips of leather. The iron spikes that adorn the wearer’s gloved knuckles were dipped in the blood of a gladiator that had won her last fifteen fights before she fell - a record in the arena._

_The desert wind hits the man like a blast from a furnace as the gates go up. A cry from the crowd. The man mutters something unintelligible. The bloodlust is thick in the air._

_The fist wearing the caestus splits the jaw of the first enemy. The steel knuckles rip and tear, splintering the treated wooden helmet like it was glass. First blood. The crowd screams. The caestus screams too, a psychic call that reverberates like music through the man’s every nerve ending. He is lightning, he is the hurricane, he is the sand that scours all in its path without mercy--_

_From there, all the caestus knows is joy. The sheer unholy delight of carnage._

_The crowd boils to its feet. The man has won. He pants with the exhaustion of ten men. Blood runs freely onto the caestus in deep rivulets, but not a drop touches the ground. He looks at the weapon in wonder._

_“Reduviidae.” The word is foreign, but the caestus accepts the new name. It clearly means something to the man, this man who was worthy after all. Together they bask in the roar of the crowd. The raging hunger it has carried since its inception is finally, beautifully sated._

_For the moment._

_========================================================================_

The moment Vola snapped awake, the sound of rustling from the darkness sent a shot of cold panic up her spine. There was no time to think. She scrambled to her feet, her brass knuckles clenched tightly to her chest. The surge of adrenaline spiked through her stomach and solar plexus, causing her heart to pound. Woodenly she staggered towards the darkness, pressing herself against the oily concrete next to the opening.

The hiss of scales on brick echoed back at her, distorted. The thing inside was big, judging from the heaviness of the footsteps. It wasn’t trying to be quiet. Maybe that meant it didn’t know she was there. Or, it did know but didn’t consider her a threat? Vola’s wounded eye socket pulsed and a red smear shot through her vision, making her wince. Who was she kidding? A full grown Yuan-Ti, and a nearly-blind starving half-orc. It didn’t take a genius to figure out those odds. The rings on her brass knuckles seemed to clamp down on her fingers, causing her hand to ball reflexively into a tighter fist. 

The form was unrecognizable at first, just a dark shape emerging from deeper darkness. It towered over Vola, walking past her before stopping in its tracks. A _whiff_ of breath. A quiet flicker as a forked tongue suspiciously tasted the air. She could feel the knuckles hammering at her brain, begging for control. But how…?

Too weak to make sense of it or fight it any longer, she surrendered to the pull. _Kill it...._

_We will._

The world went red.

The first blow broke the Yuan-Ti’s cheekbone. It had time only to grunt, staggering from the force of it. The crack traveled up her spine, sending a thrill of pain through her. “ _Acuelata_ ,” she growled softly, the foreign words rolling from her lips as if they’d always been part of her. The pneumatic force drove the spikes into its fractured face, propelling her fist backwards at the same time. Loading up for another blow.

The tail was fast, knocking the wind from her lungs in an instant. It was on top of her now, its cries that of a rage-filled, wounded animal. Blindly she swung, scuffing its meaty arms, its dense chest, tearing the skin in jagged chunks from its body. It didn’t seem to care, slashing at her face with claws like razors. Then she did scream, a wild sound that she hadn’t heard come from her lips since--

“ _Rupt!”_ Four little pops, and she shielded her face as the Yuan-Ti’s jaw erupted in a shower of blood. It poured steaming from the hole in its face, slopping over her and drenching her clothes. Reduviidae was still in control. _Moooorrrrreee--_

Strength surged in her arms and she pushed, rolling the broken form off of her. It fell limply to the ground, scrambling weakly from her in a blind panic. Vola planted one knee on its mangled belly and it threw up a claw to shield itself. As if that could possibly save it now. The next blow landed solidly between what remained of its eyes and the skull caved with a nauseating _crunch_. Another blow, this one ripping to shreds what remained of its face. It lay still now, gray matter steaming in the semi-darkness.

Her weapon purred in her hand. Shakily she slid Reduviidae off and it landed with a _plop_ on the chest of the corpse. The rivulets of blood running from the Yuan-Ti’s open wounds slowly oozed towards it, where they sizzled upon touching the metal. The psychic pull was muted without the skin contact, but even from here she could sense the weapon’s hunger, it’s need to feed. The smell of blood was suddenly so thick in her nose that she gagged. Crawling backwards away from the scene, she dry heaved into a corner, not stopping until the bitter smell of stomach acid filled her nostrils instead. 

After a few minutes, she weakly spat on the ground and leaned against the wall. Her hands would not stop shaking. Tears pooled from her one good eye. The other one had stopped responding to her brain’s commands. Chest heaving, she stared at the corpse, at the bloodthirsty weapon sitting on its chest. 

What had she done? What kind of spirits had she pulled from that cestus? There was more than one in there, she knew that for certain now. But she hadn’t sensed that when sitting on the forge. She’d never seen any reference to multiple entities residing in the same weapon in any of her books. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” she sobbed quietly to herself. “You don’t know anything at all.”

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she awoke the tears on her cheeks had dried. There was no sound except for the constant _drip-drip_ of water. Her hands had stopped shaking, but every muscle groaned in protest. Her forearms were stiff and cramped, and her neck ached. On her hands and knees, she crawled towards the corpse. It was still there, but its wounds were bone dry. Reduviidae was where she had left it, shiny and clean. Uneasily she palmed the weapon, testing the weight. It was significantly heavier, and the distinct sensation of fullness washed over her. The juxtaposition of its pleasure with her own misery was too much and she dropped it abruptly, watching it clang to a stop on the concrete. 

Shaking again, Vola made herself search the Yuan-Ti. A tiny flask of water - oh thank the gods - and a roll of paper-thin jerky, cinched tight with a leather band. And a key, wrought-iron, about the size of her thumb. Edging back from the corpse, she opened the flask, putting the metal to her lips. Clean water poured down her throat and she had to fight to keep from crying again. In spite of her best efforts to save some back, she downed the entire thing in a single long gulp. Then she started on the jerky. A faint briny saltiness, and the tang of fat. Peeling strip after strip off, she devoured her way through the gamey meat, trying not to think about what creature it could possibly have come from. All too soon, it was gone as well. Too weak to move any more, she leaned her head against the wall and slept. 

========================================================================

When Vola awoke, what little energy she’d gained from the food and rest seemed already gone. Stiff and uncomfortable, she cracked open her one good eye and then just as abruptly shut it again. Breathing slowly through her mouth, she made herself count to ten. 

She would die here. A pang of grief struck her, souring the contents of her stomach and causing a burst of pain behind her solar plexus, but her body didn’t have anything left to produce any more tears. There was no more fighting it. She was out of food, out of water, and too weak to fight. The next Yuan-Ti that came along would finish her, magical weapons or not.

A quiet rattling sob broke through her lips, but other than that there was no sound. Even that seemed so hard. Her hand drifted from her lap to the dirt by her side. Idly she began to trace words in the grime. _I’m sorry._ No...her hand wiped them away. The thought of an apology being her last words hurt too much. _Fuck you._ Too angry. She didn’t have the energy. _See you on the other side._ That was dumb. See who, and where? Another jerking sob. Writing last words wasn’t supposed to be this hard. Eventually the letters stopped coming and she found herself just tracing lines in the dirt. Who cared what she drew? No one she knew would ever see it.

A flicker in her mind. It seemed to rise gently through the fog surrounding her, taking its time bubbling up to the surface of her consciousness. 

Blearily, she glanced down at the pattern in the dirt she’d made. It was the sigil on the wall, the first one she’d seen. She stared at it for a while, waiting for the exhausted churn of her mental wheels to catch up. Puzzled, she scratched the second sigil in the dirt next to it. Something was weird about them. That familiar nagging was back, that tiny fold of gray matter that just wouldn’t let her die in peace. 

Nat settled in the dust across from her, wiping her hands on her lab coat. “Weird, huh?”

“Thought you were long gone.”

“I won’t leave you. I’ll be here till the end.”

“Does it hurt? Dying, I mean.”

“It’s a weird symbol, right? That S-curve.”

“C’mon...why are we focusing on this?” In spite of her weak state, irritation flared. “Can’t you just let me have this?”

“I dunno. Will you let yourself have this?” The doctor shrugged. She turned her clear blue eyes on Vola. The silence stretched between the two of them. Nat didn’t break Vola’s gaze. 

“Water?” The word was less of a statement than a question, but Nat grinned anyway.

“Water what?”

“Wavy line. Looks kinda like water.”

“And?”

“I dunno doc. You’re gonna have to help me out. Why do we care about this again?”

“You’re dying. Time is all you have left right now. Might as well use it.” Nat rubbed her knees in discomfort. “Can’t really think of a worse spot to die in.”

“I’ll pick a more comfortable location next time.”

“If you can snark, you can think. What’s so special about water to the Yuan-Ti?”

Vola thought for a moment. The connections seemed so hard, forming just enough to tease her before falling apart. “Rivers make easy travel.”

“A landmark reference maybe?”

“Maybe.” Something else nagged at Vola. “They needed a way to get their captives in.”

“Not going down on a rope one at a time.”

“No.”

“So a boat then?”

“Maybe.” She blinked, forcing the fog away for a precious moment. “Yeah. Maybe.” 

The doctor shrugged. "When you don't have a North Star to show you the way, you make do. What other North Star are you gonna find in a sewer?”

She had a point. “But what about the other lines?”

“Intersections maybe. Or maybe they’re just lines.” The doctor yawned. “Don’t fall asleep. If you do you won’t wake up again.”

“R-right.” At an agonizing pace, the puzzle pieces slowly clicked together. “It’s not just lines, is it?”

“You tell me.”

“Hard to describe…”

“Draw it out.”

With hands heavy as lead, Vola leaned over and began to scrawl in the dirt. Every so often she’d hesitate and then, with unsure fingers, turn her head and begin drawing sideways. Nat nodded in understanding, not speaking until she was done. The doctor leaned over, inspecting the encircled 12-sided star.

“How’d you come up with the dodecagon?”

“Something Ahroun had said.” The dragonborn’s face appeared in her vision, decorated with a carnivorous grin, and she shivered. “The Yuan-Ti love numerology. The device we were trying to grab had 12 sides. The number 12 seemed...sacred to them somehow.”

“But a circle? Not a cube?”

“We’re in a turbine draft tube. Blueprints said it was a circular pipe. I took a guess.”

When viewed as a whole, the sigils on the wall seemed to click in perfectly to the larger circle. It all seemed so logical. Except…“What are we actually looking at though?”

“It’s a map.” Vola attempted a weak laugh but it stuck in her throat, causing her to cough violently for a moment. “A map with no exit.”

“And the S-curve?”

“It’s a landmark. The North Star.”

“A ‘you are here’ symbol.”

“More or less.”

“So that’s all we have to do then. The exit has got to be near that water. If we can find it--.”

“It’ll lead straight to the Yuan-Ti.” Vola shook her head. “If they’re bringing captives in that way, there’s bound to be more where that one came from. It’s suicide.”

“ _No,_ ” the doctor insisted. “Staying here is suicide. Getting up is trying.”

“Trying to die.”

Nat was back on her knees. Her face was stern, the blue eyes glittering with annoyance. “So what you’re telling me Vola Falone, is that you survived down here for days, killed a full-grown lizard with one eye shut, cracked their map with no resources, _still_ managed to find the exit...and _now_ you’re ready to give up?” Vola shrank at the judgement and disappointment on the normally-kind face. “Get the fuck up.”

“I--”

“Get _up,_ Vola Falone _.”_

“I’ll never make it--”

“Get _up._ Get _UP. GET UP._ GET UP!” Nat was louder now, inches from her face. “You are not going to die here, get up get up get up get up GET UP!”

With a surge of strength she didn’t know she had, Vola slowly staggered to her feet. Every muscle stretched and popped in agony. Swaying with the sudden weight, she placed a hand on the wall to steady herself. Her feet took one shaky step. Then another. Then a third. 

“Don’t worry,” Nat said beside her, putting a supporting arm around Vola. The half-orc knew better, knew it wasn’t real, but the warmth on her skin and the strength of the Aasimar’s grip made Vola almost believe it could be. “I won’t let you fall asleep.”

“Promise?”

“Just keep walking.”

Vola nodded, too tired to say any more. Head slumped, her good eye half-closed, she made her way along the wall, keeping her hand on it for support. When they came to an intersection, the two of them studied the symbol, waiting for Vola’s mind to click it into place on the mental map before they continued. Nat seemed to know that Vola had no energy left to do anything but walk, and mercifully did nothing but plod alongside her with an arm on her shoulder. The half-orc knew instinctively that if she stopped, she would not be able to start again. Whatever strength she was going on now, it was purely mental; her body had given up long ago. Slowly time drifted past her, moments slipping into hours.

“Door.” It was the first word Nat had spoken in a long time. 

“Hmmm…?”

“Door.”

“Wh--” The word was cut off in a yelp of pain as Vola smacked against the wood. 

“Told you.” The pain and the surprise cleared the confusion for a brief moment and Vola stared dumbly at the gate. It was easily half again her height, tall and imposing against the wall. With the patience of the dying, she waited until her brain caught up with the sight in front of her.

“Did we take a wrong turn?”

“No, Vola. Hear that?” They both listened. At the faint sound of rushing water, Nat grinned. “You did it. That’s the river.”

“But…” Vola looked down at the padlock, unable to even articulate the words. 

“You got a key, remember? From the Yuan-Ti you killed?” Nat nudged towards her pocket. With tremored hands, Vola pulled the slim silver key out of her pocket. It seemed like it should be bigger - but why, that didn’t make sense, and what did she need a key for? Why was she holding this? “The door,” Nat urged, and then Vola remembered. Oh yes. Escaping.

The lock popped open with a cheerful click. The door eased open on oiled hinges into a darkened hallway. The faint bubble of river water mingled with something else, something that took a moment for Vola to place. Voices. The hiss of speech mingling with the--

“ _Hide_ ,” Nat spat, her voice harsh with fear. All Vola had time to do was flatten herself against the wall behind the door before it nudged open of its own accord. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, the knot in her solar plexus so tight it made her ribs hurt. A group of dimly lit figures milled around in the darkness, each one a good two feet taller than her. The green glow of a bioluminescent torch cast everything in eerie shadow. The Yuan-Ti’s skin looked sickly pale in the lucid light cast from the torch, mottled in various shades of gray. They hadn’t seen her yet, but from this distance they would if she so much as blinked. Paralyzed with absolute terror, she didn’t even dare breathe as they streamed through the door.

The groan of creaking steel echoed as the Yuan-Ti in front tugged on something. Disembodied voices hissed a curt command, and the group of figures clustered around a rope, yanking in unison. A quick wrenching squeal of metal, and a boxy cage jerked forward into view. The huddled forms inside moaned piteously, but an annoyed kick from one of the bigger Yuan-Ti silenced the noise. Another one spat something that was clearly some kind of joke, and two others laughed, a breathy scratching sound that to Vola’s ears were like nails on a chalkboard. 

A pang of guilt shot through her as the cage slowly rolled away. She should do something to help those people. All those poor prisoners, forced to drink Yuan-Ti poison and live through the horrific changes that came with it. Was there anything she could do? But even as the thought rose in her head, the figure of Nat shook her head warningly. 

“There’s nothing you can do for them,” phantom lips whispered in her ear. “You have to think of yourself first. You can come back for them.” The words were a lie and Vola knew it, but she clung to the thought as she watched the caravan disappear out of sight. The two Yuan-Ti at the rear of the group watched the cage for a moment, their faces impassive. It was impossible to tell what they were thinking. One of them still held the door open with a scaly claw, its arm so close to Vola she could make out the individual scales carpeting the sinewed muscle. A shout up ahead, and the Yuan-Ti holding the door nudged the other one in annoyance before starting down the tunnel after the cart. 

“ _Now_ ,” Nat whispered through gritted teeth as the door began to swing shut. Without thinking further, Vola obeyed. Quickly she slid through the gap just before it closed with a clang behind her - only to find herself skidding to a panicked stop centimeters away from a body. The scaled figure had its back to her. The panic thudded in her skull, and she was sure her frantic breathing would alert it to her presence. “Over here,” a voice whispered to her right, and Nat beckoned to her from behind a crate. She managed to dart behind the box just as the Yuan-Ti gave a suspicious glance behind it. Its yellow eyes studied the closed door for a moment, and a black tongue flicked the air. Vola’s breath was locked in her throat, her heart hammering in her ribcage. 

A shout from off to the left, and the Yuan-Ti snapped back around to face the small contingent that approached it. Each of the three figures held a bioluminescent torch. A fourth was busy tying a boat to a small dock, under which was a black ribbon of rushing water. The bubble of the river drowned out any hope she might have had of trying to understand the words they were saying. As a group, the glowing lights moved back through the door, waiting for the last member to catch up before they closed it behind them. The grating sound of the lock echoed in Vola’s ears. Then silence except for the bubble of water and the occasional squeaking of rats. The darkness was back and this time it was nearly complete, with the exception of a single glowing marker at the end of the dock. 

_What if there’s more waiting for me down there?_

“You have to take that chance.”

_But who knows where that river goes? And I can’t steer the boat…_

“All rivers eventually lead to the ocean.”

_What if…._

_“_ This is your one shot, Vola Falone. Are you going to take it, or not?”

With the kind of caution that only comes from terror, she slowly crept towards the dock. The boat bobbed in the darkness, pulling against its restraints. It was heavy, with three pairs of oars on each side. In the middle lay a tangle of ropes and burlap sacks. The only other feature was a small rudder at the end. The mooring line was securely fastened to the dock. With shaking hands, she attempted to untie the knots, but the lines were slick with sewage and her strength was nearly gone. “Come on…come on…gods damn it…” she whispered desperately. 

The grating of the lock sent another spike of raw panic down her spine. The door creaked open. “Fuck it.” Sliding Reduviidae on, she pointed the brass knuckles at the post. “ _Acuelata_ ,” she snarled. The force propelled her hand backwards as the spikes embedded themselves into the wood with a _crack._ The hiss of voices drew closer as a haze of green light slowly came into view. “Rupt!”

Wood shards tore at her face, causing her to reel backwards and land on her back. The snap of the explosion caused a flurry of shouts from above. The boat spun. Her face was on fire, throbbing with the pain of a dozen different cuts. And then she was _moving,_ reeling uncontrollably down a rushing path as the chorus of hisses faded away behind her. The stink of raw sewage was everywhere. Groaning, she tried to sit up, but a sudden sense of vertigo sent her right back down again. Her good eye cracked open but it only saw pitch black. Quivering, she curled into a ball in the bottom of the boat, clutching her knees to her chest. Down, around, spinning, sideways, down. The rapids sloshed against the craft, drenching her already filthy clothes. Frantically she scrambled for a firm hold as the craft began to tilt. _Please please don’t tip over_ , she prayed.

“Who are you praying to? Nat yelled, crouched beside her. 

_Whoever’s listening, I suppo--_

_BANG!_

Vola had just enough time to take a single breath before her world turned upside down and the water engulfed her. The cold pierced straight through what was left of her thin shirt. Her lungs burned and she flailed in the darkness, trying to orient herself. For a moment her fingers brushed the wood of an oar, but it slipped away before she could grasp it. There was no way to tell which way was up. A terrified sob was locked in her throat, so painful it threatened to burst past her sealed lips. 

Her face breached the water. The scream echoed as she fell through the air, down, down. Another single breath and then, impact. Sinking down into the water. The current whipping past her face. Faster than a bullet, shooting through a claustrophobic darkness, hands and feet touching nothing. 

And then...a temperature change. Colder water here. Thinner. Weakly, she opened her good eye. A watery light ahead. Lungs hot with the strain of holding stale breath, she reached for it, forcing her exhausted limbs to move.

=======================================================================

As her head breached the surface, Vola gasped. Pure fresh air filled her lungs and she let out a sob of relief. Above her, the night sky twinkled with stars. The horizon was stained with the colors of the sunset. The reds, oranges, and purples splashed across the water in a glittering display. To the right lay the gentle pulse of a buoy’s light, and - oh, thank the gods - a beach. It might have been the most beautiful thing Vola had ever seen. With a sigh, she began swimming towards it.

By the time she reached the shore, the sun had set behind the horizon and the beach was abandoned. Crawling on her hands and knees, she collapsed on the sand, hot tears streaming down her face. Her fingers dug into the sand and the crusty grit clung to her face.

After a while, the tears and panic subsided, leaving her strangely empty. With immense effort, she pulled herself to a sitting position and wiped her face. The crust of dried blood, sewage, and pus made her recoil in disgust. Gingerly, she tested her right eye. A solid scaled mass had closed over it. The smoothness now extended past her eye and trailed down her neck in a spattering pattern. It was spreading. It would eventually cover her entire skin, if left untreated. Did Nat’s healing abilities extend to Yuan-Ti magic? Vola wondered uneasily. Would the doctor even still be up? At that thought, Vola knew with certainty that she would not last till the morning. The realization spurred her to her feet with shaky determination. 

The sign at the top of the beach caught her eye as she walked past it. Aadhya Beach. But that was on Endib’s south end. Had she really traveled across the length of the city in four days? It felt like years ago that Ahroun had taken them down there. Mentally, Vola calculated the distance to the clinic. Half a kilometer, more or less. She could make it. Right?

“Hey doc,” she whispered weakly to the air, feeling foolish. “Thank you for...um….” she coughed. “...Down there. I wouldn’t have made it...without you.” There was no response, but the wind on her back was warm as Vola staggered down the walk towards the main road. 


End file.
